by D. H. Aire
The Empress stared as Carwina joined her at the window. The seven Tier walls and the palace itself glowed with a pearly sheen. “What’s he done?”
“Something father never did,” she replied.
Glancing at her half-sister, she said, “Not half bad for a human.”
“I guess that settles the matter of whether they have souls or not.”
“I always hated that tripe anyway.”
Carwina half smiled. This empress was not her mother, who was known to quote that as fact every time she confronted an uncomfortable issue dealing with her human citizenry.
Esperanza laughed as the scryers gaped at one another. “Lady, the Imperial network…”
“I know,” she said, feeling the network resonate as it had not in centuries, if not a millennia and the city wards felt like they were… singing. “Gentlemen, be so kind as to scry the entirety of the Empire. We wouldn’t want any more armies sneaking up on us.”
Her primus rushed into the room, “Mistress, the Northlands are firmly closed to scrying eyes.”
Chapter
41
Thomi stood beside Walsh atop the parapet of the Seventh Tier wall, staring first out at the battle ground as the fighting drew to a halt, then at Lord Je’orj and Lady Se’and riding toward the city. A battle steed rode forth from the nearby gate. “Someone’s lost their mount.”
Walsh leaned over the wall and nodded, “Better… gone.”
What’s he talking about? Amira whispered through Thomi’s thoughts.
Shaking his head, he had turned to glance back and muttered, “Where did they come from?”
Black robed mages manned the now gleaming white walls of each of the Upper Tiers. Turning, Walsh looked back, then suddenly grinned, “Warders… they come from deep in the earth.”
Thomi blinked, thinking ogres said the darnedest things…
Lord Winterhil signaled for an escort for the Highmage, who had not been able to have one within the storm. Se’and rasped, seeing the battle steed galloping off to the southeast. “Should we go after him?”
Lonny shook her maned head.
Less than pleased, George replied, “Apparently not… but I must admit, I’d really prefer he was gelded... Now, let’s go home.”
“The palace?” Se’and half whispered.
Wincing, he said, “Not yet.”
:What? You do not want to deal with another storm?: Staff asked.
“I’ve dealt with one, which should be enough for one day,” he muttered in reply.
Juels reached the house in the Seventh Tier. Word had already reached the Seventh Tier residents packing the Sixth Tier that the threat was past. People were already streaming through the gates and heading home, to their shops, or temporarily abandoned businesses.
The dwarves did not even note her passing.
“Juels, where have you been?”
She smiled at Andre as she entered through the kitchen door. Andre was cradling Rachiel, who was half-asleep. “I feel asleep in the barn.”
“We could have used your help with Ri’ori, but we couldn’t find you.”
“Sorry.”
Andre clearly didn’t believe her, then she smiled.
Juels smiled back. Everyone in the Pack was entitled to their secrets and it was clear to Andre that Juels was one of the “luckiest” urchins in the Rat Pack, even if she was the last one Andre had under her wing.
Mother Shaman De’ohr awaited Lord Je’orj’s return as he and his escort reached the Seventh Tier Gate. “Milord.”
“Hello, Mother Shaman.”
“You have a lovely little girl.”
“Without a doubt,” he replied, encouraging Babylon to continue on past the Cathartans.
His mount did not need much urging. Se’and gave the Mother Shaman a backward glance as his Sisters rushed to follow as they continued on to the house. “Lord Je’orj, we need to talk!”
“Really? I think it can wait.”
“But…”
George whispered to Se’and, “She’s rather transparent.”
“I’m sorry, but they are Houseless.”
“I’ve enough of a family, thank you very much.”
“You and Balfour are the only two Cathartan lords this side the Barrier Mountains.”
“Not my problem… or are Lords-by-Bond obligated to take in strays?”
Lonny glanced back as Se’and hesitated, “No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“You know she’s not go to give up easily.”
“Runs in the family…” George replied. “I need some sleep.”
:More than some,: Staff added.
“Lord Je’orj!” the Mother Shaman yelled.
“Lonny, pick up the pace a bit.” His trusty mount cantered forward.
#
Cle’or stood at Balfour’s side as he healed another among the worst injured among the wounded Llewellyn prisoners Lord Thomi had brought in, knowing there would be more entering the Seventh Tier and his impromptu hospital grounds.
The prodigious flow of blood had been halted before Balfour focused on the nearly severed arm, knit, vein, bone, and sinew back to the shoulder, leaving only the thinnest scar. Cle’or steadied him as he stood straighter and opened his eyes without once muttering a spell as those in the Imperial Healer’s Hall normally did.
“Your skill is a wonder to behold.”
Balfour turned and saw Archmage Abernathy smiling at him.
Beside the archmage stood his friend Posh, who asked, “Need some help?”
“It would be appreciated,” Balfour replied.
Posh half-turned and signaled, which brought a half dozen Faeryn healer mages and their apprentices as Abernathy nodded. “Would you consider taking on some apprecentices?”
Balfour frowned, “Perhaps. How many were your thinking?”
“One or two… hundred.”
Terrel tried not to gape at what no seemed a steady stream of very hungry apprentices and journeymen descending the stairs from Alrex’s room. Master Donnialt shouted, “You lot, hunt up some more food before we beggar Lady Carwina’s larder!”
“Yes, Master!” a journeyman replied, grabbing the two nearest apprentices, who were clearly unhappy at having to forgo downing another sandwich or two as what in another age would have been called an assembly line of those who had arrived earliest and eaten cut bread, cut cheese, put a spread of butter, jam, or cheese, or whatever else was at hand as others… poured mugs of water or juice and fed the line of apprentices and journeymen that just came out of nowhere.
“Donnialt!” Master Stenh yelled from the top of the stairs with the last two pair of students.
Terrel blinked. Two, who looked rather young to be wearing journeymen’s robes and the others, who, based on their height could not be much older, leaned against them coming down the stairs. Those two wore warder black.
Donnialt shouted, “We need juice over here on the double, then make room at that table for them!”
Apprentices scurried and Stenh, looking drawn and pale, smiled at Terrel. “I am most sincerely sorry for the unceremonious disturbance of the house. Is Carwina about?”
“I’m sorry Master Stenh. But the lady is up at the palace.”
Stenh blinked as he was given a mug and took a gingerly sip, while his companions began to down theirs. “Drink slowly and don’t eat too quickly.”
Gulp. That earned Revit a glare, which Terrel didn’t notice, getting the distinct impression that warder was both rather young and a female. He blinked. Terus grinned, “Something wrong, sir?”
“Um, no, nothing,” the old servant replied. What did tradition matter when an army of insurrectionists was said to be preparing to assault the very gates of the capital, anyway. “Nothing at all.”
Stenh sat at the table joined by Revit and Terus and their warder, surrounded by the senior most journeymen still at the table. Donnialt asked, “I take it that the node’s stabilized?”
Terus nodded
.
“Wasn’t easy,” Revit said.
The warder softly muttered, “You want to slap him?”
“What was that?” Donnialt rasped through a mouthful of food.
Glancing at him, the warder said, “Hmm?”
Revit and Terus looked at each other.
“Ahem,” Stenh said, “I take it Aaprin’s expedition has managed equally well or do we need to…”
Shaking his head, Donnialt replied, “No need, we have linked to the Scryer’s Net, the threat to the city is past. The storm’s abated and, well, things have changed a bit more than we expected.”
“Carwina’s at the palace. That’s quite a change,” Stenh commented, taking another offered drink, some color returning to his cheeks.
“Uh, Stenh, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… well, the Tier walls are glowing and they’ve turned rather white.”
Stenh stared, then he turned to Revit and Terus. “What did you miscreants do in there?!”
“Ap,” Gallen said, standing beside him on the top of the Second Tier wall, their cowled warder gulping down water from a fountain that had not been there a moment before.
“I see it,” he replied as a pale winged falc circled above the Seventh Tier.
“Well, the city is safe.”
“Yeah.”
“Um, what’s the plan now?”
“Plan… we have a plan?”
Gallen chuckled. “We survive has worked for me for quite a while. The question is what do we do next?”
“Oh, that’s simple, we go report to Lord Je’orj and ask him.” With Raven circling, it was clear where Lord Je’orj was now.
“Uh, and about… him?”
“Hmm, he comes with us, of course. He’s our warder.”
“Oh, no, I am not!”
Aaprin turned to their recovering companion. “Right face.”
The warder suddenly straightened and turned right. “Ugh.”
Gallen shook her head, “Definitely our warder.”
“Let… me go!”
“Are you going to come nicely?”
“Why, uh, of course, Aaprin.”
“Master Aaprin to you.”
“Uh, yes, Master Aaprin…” then something changed in the warder’s voice, “YES, MASTER AAPRIN.”
Aaprin and Gallen looked at each other, knowing this was going to take some explaining and hoped Lord Je’orj had a sense of humor. “Now where will he be heading?”
“Home,” Gallen said, “after we get ourselves a decent meal.”
“In the Second Tier?”
“The Sixth,” their companion said stiffly.
Aaprin glanced back.
The warder jerked, then said, “You know where else we’re going to get a free meal? Or does your robe have a pocket with coin?”
“The Sixth it is,” Aaprin said, knowing this was going to be a bit awkward.
‘A bit?’ Gallen mentally replied.
‘Okay, a lot more than a bit.’
De’ohr was less than pleased to be following after Lord Je’orj who, if he could get past the stream of returning and cheering residents of the Seventh Tier and, apparently, quite a few from the other Tiers come to see what was happening, would be nearly to his home by now.
“Mother Shaman.”
She sighed, “Yes, my dear.”
“I can take her,” the brown haired woman said, two crossed swords sheathed across her back.
“It shouldn’t come to that today.”
“I’m better than Cle’or with a sword.”
“She attained her master’s rank at a very young age.”
“I marked her.”
De’ohr stopped and turned to the House’s Champion, “Yes, but the scar seems to have faded almost to nothing and she nearly killed you last time.”
“She was lucky and she won’t be next time. You know that.”
“What I’ve seen tells me that you will not be crossing swords with her today or next month, either, for that matter.”
“But I will defeat her.”
“That is what I dreamed on the ship, but… something feels uncertain about it now.”
“Mother Shaman?”
“We do not tempt fate today. There’s a falc in the sky, if you have not noticed. It is harbinger enough for now. We will end our Shattering just as that other falc on the Caravan Road promised Vyss’s life would be save. We must only await the right time… Lord Je’orj plays in the hand of our destiny and, of course, there’s always the elfblood Lord Balfour to consider.”
Lonny pushed her way through the throng as the dwarven cordon shifted to meet them and allow them through to their section of the street. Tett shouted, “Highmage Je’orj has a ring to it, Milord!”
“This will make a fine ballad!” Spiro said with a laugh as the falc dove, shimmered and changed into a pale furred black maned beast.
“No, thank you,” George replied weakly as they passed within the courtyard gate, Se’and’s arms at his waist the only thing keeping him in the saddle as the last of his strength and bravado failed him.
“He’s fainted,” Se’and said to the nearest. Spiro shouted orders and the repaired courtyard gate was once again barred as Me’oh reached them and helped her lower him from the kneeling battle steed. “Let’s get him to bed and he’ll need broth and…”
Me’oh replied, “We know the drill, Se’and. He’ll be fine. The question is: how are you?”
“What? I’m fine.”
“You are as white as a sheet, girl!”
“You would be, too…”
The dwarves began crowding around as Tett cried, “None of that!”
Fri’il whispered, “Watch Ri’ori.”
Nodding, Juels held the crying baby as Tett and Spiro carried Je’orj up the staircase over their shoulders. Se’and followed, carrying the quiescent staff up after them. Fri’il rushed up the stairs after them, Raven bounded the steps before her, while Me’oh shouted orders.
“Is he hurt?” Fri’il cried.
“No, just exhausted,” Se’and replied as they entered the bedroom. Tett and Spiro set him down.
“He’s terribly cold,” Spiro said as Fri’il barred the door.
“That’s normal,” Se’and replied, placing the staff near the bed. “We need to warm him up a bit.”
Tett frowned as Se’and and Fri’il began undressing Je’orj. Spiro shook his head, “Uh, what do you want us to do?”
Raven shimmered and changed into human form and went to the door, “Go. Guard room.”
“She talks,” Tett muttered.
“Of course, she talks,” Spiro said as Raven opened the door and ushered them out to stand guard.
“But I didn’t know she could talk,” Tett muttered as Raven closed the door and barred it, shaking her head.
After tucking Je’orj under the covers, Fri’il and Se’and disrobed and cradled under them as well on either side of him. “Se’and, he’s colder than ever I remember.”
With a sigh, Se’and replied, “I know, which means we’ve a lot of work to do.”
Soon Staff was beginning it glow the faintest pink.
Chapter
42
“He’s where, Varian?” the Empress said as her herald reported that the insurrection had be dealt with rather decisively.
“The Highmage has returned to his home in the Seventh Tier.”
“His home is here.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
The Empress turned to Carwina, “Is he trying to make me angry?”
“Your Majesty, he has two homes.”
“We have a wedding to plan!” she exclaimed.
Varian’s eyes went wide.
“Perhaps, he needs…” her half-sister began, then hesitated.
The Empress winced, “Of course… Varian, we need to plan a celebration and I need to commission a wedding dress.”
“Uh, yes, Your Majesty.” That said, her herald left the room. He no sooner closed the door
to her study when he heard the shattering of teacups, saucers, and at least one vase. “Lord Je’orj, you are going to make my life difficult, aren’t you?”
George awoke, opened his eyes wide, then winced. They had pinned him again. :You did not leave them much choice,: Staff said.
“Status?” he mumbled.
:Vital signs steady, though, and now in optimal range. You were in bad shape, George. They worked on you for more than an hour to get your temperature back to normal:
He did not want to ask how they had managed that. He glanced to the far edge of the bed and saw that Raven was lying over the covers warming his feet. Fri’il stirred, “Milord.”
Se’and didn’t stir at all.
“She was not much help after a while,” Fri’il said wryly.
:I have monitored her vitals. She seems less than optimal today.:
“We’ve been rather busy lately. She’s was exhausted,” he muttered, thinking, and she was determined to do her duty even if it meant following him through the eye of a storm and beyond. He began trying to extricate him only to have Fri’il snuggle closer.
There was a knock at the door. Raven bounded off the bed, shimmered, rising up on two legs as she changed to human form. She opened the door for Juels, who came in with Ri’ori.
“Fri’il, Me’oh tried to feed her again, but… well, she wants her mommy.”
Sitting up, Fri’il fluffed up the pillows behind her and reached for her daughter as Juels came over with an odd look on her face.
“More company, great,” George said.
Ri’ori burbled, then Fri’il settled back against the pillows and began to breastfeed the baby. Eyes wide, Juels saw Je’orj smile crookedly as he sat up in turn.
“You’ve a lot more company downstairs, Milord,” Juels said.
“Do I even want to know?” he asked.
Shrugging, Juels replied, “Revit, Terus, and Aaprin and Gallen are here with, um, a few friends. Mother Shaman De’ohr has organized feeding the army that’s camped outside.”
