“That is a bloody great if,” said de Biot.
“True,” said Rousseau. “And I do have my doubts. But we can plan every detail over and over until we are happy, right, de Sousse?”
De Sousse shrugged. “There is no great pressing need on time. I would not want to waste any advantage we get from taking Turnitia, but that will last a while yet. Better to go in prepared, I always say.”
“Then, dependent on the actual planning,” said Rousseau slowly. “I am in too.”
De Biot looked at him as if he were mad.
“Durand, Fremont,” de Sousse addressed the two other barons. “These two fine gentlemen are with me. What will it take to get your support?”
Close political allies, the two barons looked at one another before Fremont spoke.
“I suppose, in all of this, you would be, what, the general of this combined force?”
“Given my hold on Turnitia, I believe I would be the logical choice,” de Sousse said.
“Well, that is fine, that is fine,” Fremont said. “And when every fighting man in Pontaine is under the banner, you will still be the overall commander?”
“I can foresee several older nobles wanting to displace me, but I would naturally look to my closest friends to assist me in retaining the position.”
“And there we have the central problem,” Fremont said.
“Which is?” de Sousse asked, trying very hard not to look as if he were baiting the baron.
“Let us suppose that, against all sane odds, this enterprise of yours works. There will be no more Vos or, at least, no more Vos Empire. The peninsula will be united. Under one rule. Yours? The Emperor de Sousse?”
“That is a lovely thought,” de Sousse said, chuckling to himself to lend some levity to the notion. “And it would be another logical choice – I would have initiated Pontaine’s path back to greatness. But I instead make you this promise. Who sits in the emperor’s throne, if we end up calling it that, will be decided on the field of battle. Whosoever distinguishes himself most in the war, who gathers the most honour and glory... he shall be emperor.”
“You’ll stand by that?” de Biot asked, clearly surprised.
De Sousse shrugged. “Just by attempting this, every one of us round this table will be guaranteed honour and glory for centuries to come – maybe forever! If we succeed, then we will have all the wealth we ever dreamed of. So what is left? Raw power? I have as much interest in that as all of you, but if it is someone else who sits on the throne, we will have their eternal gratitude. And that, as a power behind the throne, is almost as valuable, without making yourself such a visible target. Yes, de Biot, I am tickled by the notion of being emperor, but I do not burn for it. At least, not yet. Thus, I am happy to let a man’s sword determine his right to take the throne.”
Fremont grinned. “I’ll hold you to that, de Sousse. So long as it remains true, though, I am in.”
“I also,” growled Durand, looking eager to start hacking apart Vos knights that minute.
“And so it comes to you, de Biot,” de Sousse said. “What say you?”
De Biot looked at the others, conscious they all now waited for his answer.
“I will say now that this plan is madness, it’s foolish, it’s... ill-conceived.” He sighed, deeply. “But if you think I am going to let one of you become emperor of the entire peninsula without me having a fair shot at it, you have another think coming.”
“You are with us?” Count Fournier asked.
De Biot shook his head slightly, as if he could not believe his own words. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Rubbing his forehead, he sighed again.
“I believe I am,” he finally said. “May the good God help us all.”
ONE OF THE Citadel’s countless servants had provided a seat for Tellmore as he waited outside the baron’s study. He had been patient to begin with, but had steadily grown concerned as first the minutes and then the hours passed. While he did not relish the news he was to deliver, Tellmore could not help but wonder what kept the baron’s attention over news from an expedition in the Anclas Territories to uncover the most powerful magical artefact of recent times.
Tellmore sighed. It was the nature of his position that warriors could rarely understand the import of matters magical.
The servant had offered to prepare new clothing for Tellmore, but he had declined. His cloak was ruined, while his tunic was dirty and ripped in several places. He had thought that his appearance might draw some sympathy from the baron, an acknowledgement that, despite his failure to retrieve the Guardian Starlight, best efforts had been made.
Now he was starting to regret that decision and even doubting its efficacy. The thought of a long soak in a rose-scented bath, followed by a good meal and clean clothing, had taken seed and was starting to bear fruit.
The baron was certainly giving him plenty of time for such welcome luxuries.
“My dear Tellmore, my deepest apologies for having you kept waiting,” the baron said as he appeared at the end of the corridor. He was positively beaming, which made Tellmore suspect the man had been enjoying the attentions of one of his many women; but the baron had always let such worldly matters fall to the side when Tellmore had something important to discuss.
As the baron approached, his smile slipped a little as Tellmore stood.
“Tellmore, you look an absolute wreck,” he said, as he withdrew a key from his belt pouch and unlocked the study door. “Oh, dear, something tells me you have not got the best news for me. Well, don’t stand on ceremony, come on in and tell me all about it.”
Following the baron in, Tellmore watched as he flopped down into his chair with a satisfied sigh, before pulling off his boots and settling down comfortably.
“My Lord,” Tellmore began, then hesitated.
“Sit, sit, sit, man,” the baron said, waving his hand in irritation at Tellmore. “And out with it. You tell me your news, then I’ll tell you mine.”
Tellmore frowned as he did as he was instructed. He had feared his failure would have serious repercussions, possibly being dismissed from the baron’s service and a return to the Three Towers. Such a prospect was not wholly bad in Tellmore’s eyes, as he would be able to return to pure academic study. He had to admit though, he would miss the baron’s patronage. He had a great deal of autonomy here and the pay was very good.
“The expedition is lost, my Baron,” Tellmore said. “I was not able to retrieve the Guardian Starlight.”
“Ah, well,” said de Sousse. “Your information was bad?”
“No, not at all, I am very sure we found the right site. Everything matched – geography, topography, the few ruins we were able to unearth.”
“What then?”
Tellmore took a deep breath before continuing. “We were attacked. Looked like a Vos force.”
The baron raised his brow at that.
“We lost everyone. I was knocked out during the fighting, and would still be there now, captured or dead, if it were not for Sir Renauld.”
“Renauld got out alive too?”
“He did, my Baron.”
“Oh, well thank the heavens for that at least,” said the baron, and his relief seemed genuine. “I would not have liked to explain to his father just how I got him killed. Add to that, he is a good knight. Young, but with potential enough, and I’ll have need for him in the near future.”
“Pardon, my Baron,” Tellmore said. “You do not seem overly concerned about this turn of events.”
“Well, you know me, my dear Tellmore,” the baron said, rather grandly. “I don’t like leaving important matters to chance. I dispatched some additional help for you some time ago.”
“Additional help?”
“Our grateful friend, Lucius.”
“You did not trust me, my Baron?”
“Oh, Tellmore, don’t be so jealous. When it comes to all things arcane, there is none in this world I would listen to more than you. However, delving in anc
ient ruins? You never know what you might find. I thought a thief would serve you well for anything... beyond your normal experiences.”
Tellmore thought for a moment. “What about the other Shadowmage, Adrianna?”
De Sousse chuckled. “Well, I summoned her, but she did not appear. So, I gave the job to Lucius. However, I now hear from my men in the city that our facially challenged Adrianna ... disappeared. Right about the same time Lucius left to join you.”
“So she has gone there as well?”
“That is my assumption.”
“My Lord Baron. Can you trust these people? I know we have agreements with them, but...”
“It is a finely balanced play,” the baron said, conceding the point. “But as far as our thief Lucius is concerned... yes, I actually think I do trust him. In terms of his guild, he is heavily indebted to us, to what extent I don’t think he really comprehends yet. However, on a higher level, I really do believe that his reputation as a thief matters more to him than the artefact he now chases.”
“And the Shadowmage?”
A dark look fluttered briefly across the baron’s face. “Now, she is a worry. I have no doubt that, between the two of them, she is the senior, magically speaking. And if she avoided me but went anyway, one has to question her motives. I would not like to be Lucius when they find the Starlight.”
“You think a thief may outwit a Shadowmage?” Tellmore asked, dubiously.
“No, but remember that Lucius is a Shadowmage too. He may surprise us. And, if not, I have one more insurance over her.”
“Which is?”
“You, my dear Tellmore! I presume you can track her through some arcane means?”
Tellmore thought for a moment. “It is not easy, but certainly possible. If she attempts to use the Guardian Starlight, though, I should be able to find her from the other side of the peninsula.”
“I thought as much. And use it she will, if she has gone to this much trouble already. When that happens, I’ll send you and a full company of men. I suspect there is little that will improve her disposition towards us better than a few swords and spears in her belly.”
Nodding, Tellmore found himself begrudgingly impressed with de Sousse. Though he could not help feel slighted at having been displaced by a thief of all people, the baron had made sure the success of the expedition was secure in many different ways, and that kind of foresight had to be appreciated. At the end of the day, recovery of the Guardian Starlight was all that mattered.
“In that case, my Baron, I formally apologise for having let you down on my side of the arrangement.”
“Oh, don’t be so pompous,” the baron said, waving the apology aside. “If it were not for you, we wouldn’t even know of this great magical power. What concerns me more is the presence of Vos forces. Did you get the sense they were there specifically for you, and for the artefact?”
“Impossible to say,” Tellmore said after a moment’s thought. “The attack came quickly and at night.”
“Possibly planned then.”
“Does that have bearing on this?”
“Not on this, no. I haven’t told you my news yet.”
“Which is, my Baron?”
“Many things have been put in motion while you have been away, Tellmore,” the baron said with a sparkle in his eye that Tellmore found a little disturbing. “Take a look outside.”
Tellmore frowned, but stood up and walked to the open window behind the baron. From the high vantage point, he could see across half the city but his attention was drawn to the courtyard of the Citadel, immediately below him.
Within the high walls and in the shadow of one of the Citadel’s towers, soldiers, sporting several different liveries, were lining up and making ready for departure. Honour guards for the armoured nobles who sat on powerful horses at the head of their men. While he was not the best authority on Pontaine heraldry, Tellmore recognised the crest of Count Fournier, and knew him to be someone de Sousse had been moving closer to of late. He also thought he could place one of the barons, though the man’s name escaped him for the moment.
“My Baron has been busy indeed,” Tellmore muttered. Then, louder, he said, “Would my Baron care to share his plans with me?”
“My dear Tellmore,” de Sousse said. “I can promise you, you are going to be impressed.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
STEPPING OVER THE body of a Vos soldier, Lucius padded down the first flight of steps, their surface slick from the rain that had fallen, mixed with the mud remaining from their excavation.
The soldier had been one of two guards stationed at the head of the stairs, and Lucius had efficiently dispatched one with a thrust from his short sword into the small of the man’s back, while Adrianna had taken care of the other with a focussed thrust of air that had lethally slammed the guard’s body into the ground with a dreadful force. Lucius had looked around anxiously after she had cast her spell, as the sound of the guard hitting the earth seemed impossibly loud. However, the sound did not seem to travel more than a few yards. He wondered if that was an embellishment to the spell Adrianna had developed herself.
The stairs were wide and carved from grey stone. Their lack of grip might have caused anyone else to term them “treacherous” but the Shadowmages crept down as sure as mountain goats. Descending into blackness, the stairs led deep into the earth and, lacking torches, Adrianna cast a minor spell, one that caused a pale purple point of weak light to materialise in the palm of her hand. No one casually walking past the top of the stairs would notice its dim glimmer below, but it provided just enough illumination for Lucius to spot his path.
Though there were others in the thieves’ guild who had an uncanny knack for always knowing just how far they were beneath the surface when on a subterranean jaunt, Lucius had never developed the skill. Even so, he could count, and he estimated they were the equivalent of three storeys down when the stairs finally came to an end and flattened out into a corridor which extended into the dark, fully four yards wide.
Even in the pale twilight cast by Adrianna, Lucius could immediately see he was in a fantastical place. The paving stones were exquisitely cut, laid so close together that at no point could he have inserted a blade between them. As for the walls and ceiling of the corridor, he had no idea how that had been constructed. A human might have simply left the rock bare or covered it in plaster. Instead, it seemed each wall was sculpted from a single slab of that grey rock, as perfectly fashioned as each pave stone on the floor.
He could not begin to think of the craftsmanship – or magic – required to build such a place.
In the past, Lucius had heard tales of the Old Races, as had every child or thief willing to listen to a wild story. It was only now that he began to appreciate just what the elves had been capable of.
Which begged the question, of course: why did men rule the world now and not the elves?
The steps he took began to falter, not out of a lack of visibility, but a lack of confidence. His thievish instincts were fully alert, but he recognised that they might have no chance of spotting any potential danger. The walls were perfectly smooth, so that suggested no blade or dart traps would be sprung from them. But then again, if the architects of this place could build such walls, what were they capable of hiding within them?
As for the floor, that was even worse. There would be no chance to spot the outline of a swinging pit trap if it followed the perfect contours of the paving stones.
He felt as if he were groping around in the dark like some apprentice thief on his first burglary. The only comfort was that Adrianna was not passing sarcastic comments about his lack of pace, which meant she was either in complete awe of this place, or just as nervous as he was.
Proceeding down the corridor, perpetually crouched and testing each foot before he put his full weight on it, their progress was slow, but Lucius was not in any real rush.
The corridor seemed to go on forever, though Lucius estimated they had perhaps travel
led no more than sixty or seventy yards. It came as some relief when, ahead, Lucius saw the corridor widening into a chamber. He gestured at Adrianna behind and she intensified her spell, the purple haze in the palm of her hand brightening to expand his view.
As darkness retreated, the chamber’s full expanse came into view. Lucius found himself at the top of another flight of stairs. The ceiling arched out of sight but he could pick out two alcoves in either of the walls, high enough to contain a man standing but currently empty.
Pacing slowly down the steps, eyes darting in all directions to spot traps and other defences, Lucius spied a handful of dark marks lying on the floor at the opposite end of the chamber and, beyond them, a large set of double doors carved from the same stone as the floors and walls.
Halfway down the stairs, he halted and looked back over his shoulder to Adrianna.
“What do you think?” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I think we are safe for now. If we are to believe the Pontaine soldiers we met, this place has had morons traipsing in and out of it for weeks, with no harm coming to them. I believe that the doors there will be our real problem.”
Forcing himself to relax a little, Lucius took a deep breath and continued down the stairs to cross the chamber. As he approached the great doors, he rubbed his eyes, thinking that Adrianna’s false light was beginning to play with his vision.
Pale azure lines of arcane light had begun to glow within the doors, forming a tight, geometric pattern that seemed to grow and build in brilliance as he moved closer. Alarmed, thinking an ancient trap was about to be unleashed, he jumped back, sword drawn in a defensive posture.
“You see that?” he said to Adrianna.
She sounded confused. “See what?”
“The door – is it preparing a spell against us?”
The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) Page 63
