Highmage (Highmage's Plight Book 4)

by D. H. Aire

  The Legionnaire sergeant was inordinately interested in the Highmage’s stables, particularly when the large horses became spooked and began looking at each other as if for reassurance or guidance. The large mare glanced at him and he realized he felt… itchy. Something was going on with the city wards, but nothing seeking to warn him. “Lady, what’s going on?”

  The mare whinnied with a shake of her head.

  Arms crossed, he said, “Lady, we both know what you are. Consider the Legion at your service.”

  Nickering, she nodded, but gave him no answer, turning to glance back toward the house. The Lady Cle’or was crossing the courtyard apparently coming to check on the mounts.

  “This mare’s quite a prize,” the sergeant commented.

  The Cathartan frowned, “She’s a handful. She doesn’t like anyone other than Lord Je’orj riding her.”

  He nodded, “She’s a, uh, unusual mount.”

  “Lord Je’orj is an unusual man.”

  “When next the Highmage comes to the palace, might I stable her in the Legionnaire’s Stable?”

  “It’s secure.”

  “Very.”

  “Why the interest?”

  He patted the mare’s flank, “She’s a fine… animal.”

  The mare’s whinnied, nodding.

  Cle’or saw that and nodded, “I see no harm in that.”

  “Believe me no harm will come of this.”

  The black robed woman with silver streaked hair followed the old priest down the temple stairs into the warrens. She passed refugees settling in on the bedrolls they had fled with months before.

  “These are my other guests,” he said, gesturing her to enter.

  They looked less than pleased, but they looked as her dreams said. She smiled, “Young ladies, I am so pleased to meet you. We did not mean to invade your sanctuary, but we need a temporary home.”

  “What kind of home?” one of the older urchins asked.

  She smiled, “There are quite a few more of us.”

  “And if we help you, what’s in it for us?”

  “A girl after my own heart it seems, how about our home becoming your home?”

  The girls of various ages glanced at each other. “We have a home and nothing comes free.”

  Those words echoed in her mind, just as they had in her dream that had led them here. So, although she did not understand it, she said what she had then. “You will always be together and… Andre will be there.”

  “Andre!” the girls cried.

  She nodded.

  There was a knock at the door. Grendel frowned as his elderly servant entered, “Milord, you have unexpected guests.”

  He glanced at Archmage Kolter, who frowned, “Likely an explanation for the fluctuation in the city wards.”

  “Let them in.”

  “Sir, there are—”

  “Let them in.”

  The man nodded and opened the doors wide, “He will see you now.”

  Kolter gaped as Grendel stared as a dozen soaking wet scryers entered each shouting nonsense about being ejected from their annexes and the main Guild Hall. “Quiet!” he yelled. “Now, you tell me what’s happened!”

  The scrying master swallowed, “The Mistress is dead.”

  Kolter listened eagerly as Grendel asserted, “Then her Primus is now Master of the Hall.”

  The man shook his head, “There’s a new Mistress.”

  “What?” Kolter cried. “Scry him out.”

  “We can’t.”

  “What?” Grendel exclaimed.

  “We’ve tried…”

  “Archmage, Lord Grendel, we’re barred.”

  “You can’t be,” Grendel rasped as Kolter of Hayden grimaced, wondering how that human mage had managed this.

  Chapter

  23

  Tett peered over the wall, then called down, “There are even more of them.”

  Spiro came up the ladder, seeing for himself as a child broke away from the pack one of the Imperial Guards chasing after him. “Please! Please! My momma needs the Highmage!”

  “Oh, for Empress’s Sake,” Tett muttered.

  Spiro’s eyes widened. “I know that boy.”

  “Please!” the boy sobbed as the guard caught up to him and began dragging him back, “Momma… My poor momma.”

  “Open the gate!” Spiro called, then yelled at the guard, “In the name of the Highmage, release that child, Sir!”

  Freed, the boy fell to his knees in relief, “Oh, thank you, Sir! Thank you!”

  The dwarves worked the broken gate open and waved the boy within. No sooner had Spiro climbed down and the dwarves manhandled the wooden gate back in place than the boy grinned, “Hi, Master Spiro.”

  The bard shook his head, “Clawd, what are you doing here?”

  “Here to see the boss.”

  “Gallen?”

  “Huh? No, the Lady.”

  Cle’or and Se’and were arguing as the tailor finished taking George’s full measure. Me’oh adding to the man’s commission as Herald Varian said, “Lord Je’orj, Her Majesty really would appreciate your returning to the palace with me this afternoon.”

  “Now, Varian, I’m in no rush to be certified, or whatever, as Highmage. I’m sure Her Majesty has fine dining plans for me, but I only just got back. She can give me at least a day or two.”

  “Her Majesty was rather specific. She wishes to dine with you this evening.”

  “Varian, you will just have to go back and tell her that I appreciate her gift, but without the suitable clothing she’s commissioned I can’t possibly—”

  “The clothing she’s commissioned is for Court to present at your, uh, accession ceremony.”

  :George, did you sense that?:

  He didn’t respond to his computer, the lie hung palpably in the air. “I’ve a newborn to consider. Her Majesty can wait.”

  “Her Majesty is unused to waiting as you put it… and the Empire needs its Highmage. Until your accession, the Empire is without its greatest defense.”

  “Playing consort can wait a day or two, Varian.”

  Fri’il watched that exchange closely, then came up to Cle’or and Se’and, “Je’orj is being remarkably sensible.”

  Se’and replied, “I take it our arguing was helping.”

  The younger woman nodded, “Staff clearly caught the arguments you offered while pretending to fight over the honor of killing Her Majesty.”

  “Are we turning into mother shamen?” Cle’or half-whispered.

  “Lords forfend,” Se’and replied.

  That’s when the door opened and Clawd marched in, “What have I missed?”

  Andre and Gallen rushed down the stairs.

  “I didn’t see them spying,” Cle’or muttered, then smiled. “Excellent… Welcome, young man.”

  “You’ll stay for dinner,” Me’oh said. “You planning, too, Varian?”

  The herald groaned. “No, I must return to the palace… with Lord Je’orj.”

  “Ow,” Balfour said.

  “Sorry, milord,” the tailor said, clearly unsettled.

  Raven was watching from the floor and rolled over in beast-form, laughing, kicking up her paws.

  A dwarf peered from the kitchen, “How many more for dinner tonight?”

  Me’oh asked the tailor, “You do dresses?”

  “Milady? Wouldn’t you prefer a seamstress?”

  “Why? You don’t do dresses?”

  “I do… but not normally for ladies such as yourself.”

  “Oh, I don’t need a new dress, I was thinking of something nice for Fri’il… and something for Andre and Juels.”

  “For us?” the chorused as Gallen turned with a wary look from the hug she was giving Clawd.

  “And the boys, of course,” Me’oh said smiling.

  Varian shook his head as Cle’or announced, “That’ll be five more for dinner.”

  “Four?”

  “Verny and that nice legionnaire sergeant, who lik
es our warhorses, should be invited as well. His men can dine with the dwarves, surely.”

  “We need to return to the palace,” Varian asserted.

  “Tomorrow,” George said, “after all, Her Majesty surely cannot be upset at my not dining with her tonight if you were delayed overnight.”

  Varian grimaced, “Lord Highmage… I… would be honored.”

  “Excellent,” George replied.

  :An excellent opportunity for intel…:

  George nodded, noting Se’and and Cle’or’s smiles as well.

  “Where is he?”

  “Who, Your Majesty?” Terhun asked rather politely.

  “Varian should be back with Lord Je’orj by now.”

  “Perhaps, Lord Je’orj hasn’t received your message.”

  “Terhun, do I need to ask you again?”

  “Majesty? To the best of my knowledge he’s at his estate.” He deliberately did not refer to it as the Cathartan Embassy.

  “Perhaps I should ask my scryers then?” she said angrily.

  “That would be an excellent idea,” Terhun replied. “The new Mistress of Scryers is waiting for the opportunity to meet with you right now.”

  “I still cannot believe that the Primus murdered…”

  “We will track him down and deal with him.”

  “You want me to dine with the new scryer?”

  “It seems you have no other plans.”

  “Fine… but you will join us.”

  “I would be honored, Majesty.”

  He opened the doors and the Lord and Lady Lyai entered.

  “Lee? What are you and Esperanza doing here?”

  “Uh, did Terhun fail to mention that my lady wife is a scryer?”

  The Empress glared. “Yes, he apparently did neglect to mention that.”

  Esperanza bowed. “Milady, I was trained at the Consecrated’s Tower. I am part of the cause of the Talisman’s destruction.”

  “Cousin,” Lee said, “that is only half of it. Esperanza’s now… a living talisman, a scrying focus.

  She has established an uncorrupted Network.”

  “Your new Network spans nearly half the Empire,” Esperanza said.

  The Empress raised her hand. “Terhun, you’ve been scheming beyond my imaginings. Let us speak more of this over dinner… but first might you explain why the city wards feel… warm.”

  The young scryer smiled, “The node is active. Actually five nodes are now active, strengthening the new Network and the Imperial wards in areas loyal to Your Majesty.”

  Lord Sianhiel and his bane sword armed guards walked into the Sixth Tier to the edge of the Dwarven Quarter. They paused to make sure none were watching the merchant shop now that the Scryer’s Guild was in such disarray that it would take more spies of the physical kind to pursue all the activities of the Great Houses.

  He posted two elfblooded kinsmen at the door, then went inside. The dwarven guards were clearly unhappy to see him.

  “We’re closed.”

  “I seek Master Lucian.”

  “Lucian!” one of the dwarves yelled.

  The elf came down the stairs and stared. “Milord?”

  “Cousin, I hear you have remarried.”

  “Yes.”

  “A human again, rather young.”

  “We live rather long lives at times,” Lucian replied.

  “Actually, that is what brought me here. Is there somewhere we may speak privately?”

  Frowning, Lucian did not glance back at the top of the stair, where his wife Irin stood clutching a dagger that she hoped not to need. “Certainly, this way, Lord Sianhiel.”

  He offered Sianhiel a seat in their simple parlor in what could be considered the both the shop’s and house’s shared den. The elflord sat and sang out a warding spell, which cut off all sound and scrying.

  Lucian sat opposite, his disfigured hand twitching, “This is an unexpected honor.”

  “Luce, you cannot help but notice the city, if not the entire Empire, is in an uproar over the election of the human mage.”

  “I take it there is some message you wish me to relay to Lord Je’orj?”

  “Actually, no.”

  “Sianhiel, why have you come, then?”

  “A problem has come to my attention.”

  “That has brought you to me? Has my… alliance with the House of Je’orj become an issue?”

  “Luce, your alliance does you more credit than you know… It is your other alliances that have may offer the help we need.”

  “My other alliances?”

  Sianhiel actually blushed, “The House has not done right by your branch.”

  “My branch? If not for my infirmity, I would have died with the rest fighting in the Northlands. It’s not as if we were known for our mage skill.”

  “My father threw your cousins away and traded your sister to a marriage without issue.”

  “Was an alliance to a minor family in Rian so important?”

  “We thought so, and father thought little of you.”

  “Which lent me free to marry as I would and gave me Aaprin.”

  “Who the family didn’t think much of either, I’m sorry to admit.”

  “So exactly what are we talking about?”

  Sianhiel glanced down, “Lucian, Master Donnialt and I had a conversation once…”

  He frowned, “Regarding?”

  “Your, uh, son, Rexil.”

  “Rexil’s not my son.”

  “He’s got my House’s magery in full measure and he’s not of any of the other branch lines.”

  “He’s not my son.”

  “I’ve had similar conversation about a number of your other children.”

  “I have no other children.”

  “Lucian, why did Irin’s father cover Aaprin’s tuition? And don’t tell me you earned it just working that taproom.”

  He shook his head, growing angry.

  Sianhiel raised his hand and met Lucian’s gaze, “I understand, Lucian. I truly do. You owe me no explanation. But… whether you willed it or no, you’ve built bonds that… well, we need.”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Look here, Lucian Summerfelt, the Empress has sent her Legions to reinforce the northern border and this city is on the edge of civil war… So, you will call in all those families you’ve managed to get out of the poverty of the Seventh Tier to good jobs here in the Sixth. If Rexil’s father is like any of the others, you’ve a number of veteran legionnaires who owe you.”

  “No one owes me anything!”

  Sianhiel nodded, “Well, if you do this, I shall.”

  That shut up Lucian.

  “Yes, Lucian, my House will owe you and your precious Aaprin. Think about what that could mean to the Summerfelts, a line that was thought all but extinct.”

  As dinner was being prepared Clawd met privately with Se’and and Cle’or. “Miladies, Master Terhun has set a small group of us loose to scout with charms courtesy of the Faeryn Magisters, like the fancy word, lady?” Se’and nodded. “Ahem, to ward us like these,” he said, holding a rune marked coin out in his hand.

  “Why?” Se’and prompted.

  “The Scryer’s Guild has reported a large group of black robed assassins entering the city, but we noticed, well, that they walked like you both.”

  “Like women?”

  “Black robed,” Cle’or said. “Full length.”

  “Dragged on the ground for quite a few of them.”

  “These women… did any of you glimpse the hilt of a dagger or short sword.”

  “No, Lady Se’and. But, well, Ebb said he thought quite a few hid bows in the long packs they carried.”

  Se’and and Cle’or looked at each other.

  “Juels, you look faint,” Andre said as they went up the stairs.

  Feeling terribly tired, Juels nodded as Andre settled her in her pallet.

  “I’ll come for you when dinner’s ready.”

  Sh
e had closed her eyes only for a moment before Revit and Terus entered the room she shared with Andre. “Well, what have we here?” Revit said.

  She moaned, “Leave me be.”

  “You’ve a secret,” Terus said.

  She sat up, her heart racing.

  “We understand secrets and know what it is,” Revit said.

  “Uh, you do?”

  “Yep, you’re an elfblood like me,” Terus replied. “Though, you don’t look it.”

  Juels swallowed, staring back at Terus. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

  The boys grinned. “We won’t… not if you’ll help us, well, play a trick or two when the time is right.”

  Her luck rang in her mind. “Well, it’d have to be quite a trick and well deserved.”

  Seeing them nod, she lay back down, “Now, if you don’t mind. I’m really tired.”

  They left her in peace. She giggled. Oh my…

  Chapter

  24

  “Regis…” Master Ofran said as a score of mages and a few trusted healers gathered Underhill amidst those who had supported Lord Je’orj’s candidacy.

  “I know,” he replied.

  “What’s worse is the Empress has sent the bulk of the legion north, when she should have kept them here,” the portly elvin healer, Posh, said.

  “And now the Scryer’s Guild has a new Mistress, someone no one at Court could have foreseen.”

  “Lady Lyai, no less, and no one had even heard of her a year ago. My granddame whispers that she could be an agent of the dark for all we know.”

  “Because he husband is kin to the Faeryn archmage of the eastern province?” Regis replied. “If anything, that tells me matters have not gone from bad to worse.”

  “You tell that to the Mage Guild and we’ll lose scores more who support Lord Je’orj in Conclave!”

  “Yet they voted for him,” Ofran said.

  “They knew raising Grendel was a worse choice, more like,” an old mage offered to a host of nods from his fellow elfbloods.

  Regis sighed, “So, to sum matters up, Stenh has stolen the remnant of the Mage Guild beyond Underhill to the Old Hall—”