Highmage (Highmage's Plight Book 4) Read online

  :Je’orj, can you hear me?:

  :George, did you hear that?:

  :Se’and! Cle’or!:

  “It’s Fri’il… Staff, how much time has elapsed?”

  “Ten point six five four minutes… Warning, scan indicates time dilation.”

  “Wonderful… Revit, Terus, Aaprin, begin disengaging. Staff, end all sessions.”

  :Acknowledged,: Staff replied.

  Juels felt the capital node pulse through the seeming cavern floor. The stalagmites flickered as she felt the curious surrounding her.

  Impossible, the entity said.

  “Yeah, now get out of the way and let me do my thing.”

  You are what?! another cried as others burst forth around her.

  “I’m feeling lucky,” she said with a wry smile, then felt them backing away. All save one. “Alrex, it’s my turn.”

  You can’t be.

  “Good, then I’m not.” Then she winced as the city wards reverberated and her soul cried out as Alrex’s spirit “stared.”

  Focus, child.

  The Scryer’s Guild was not housed in one location in the capital. The network included buildings throughout the Second, Third, and Fourth Tiers. Smaller annexes where merchants, families, or individuals sought to send messages, rather expensive ones, across the Empire could be found in the Fifth and Sixth Tiers.

  She could see the scryers in first one Hall, then another. Young, old, all stared into bowls, or even the pools below the many fountains the Guild was known for. Some swayed, others remained completely motionless. She can feel their links through the Network, something she had never been able to do before.

  Focus.

  The primary purpose of the Guild was to serve the Empress, the command of the Imperial Legions, and the Mage Guild for the good of the Empire. The Guild was also vital to financial lifeblood of the Empire. Business used the network extensively, though, often the Tanners, Textile, Potters, or other commercial guilds used the Express, the less expensive courier network, but in a land of magery, fear of communication’s being compromised was great. It created additional demand for mage message warding services.

  Esperanza knew first hand of the suborning of the Scryer’s Network in the Northern and Eastern Provinces. She had met the Mistress on the Network, although, never in person. That the aged Mistress had lauded her for what she and Amira had accomplished, her air of distrust could not entire have been concealed. What they had done was too outside the tradition.

  Now she sensed patterns. There were scryers linked normally sending messages or “watching” for activities near and far, but others were not just watching weather patterns, the accidental fire, seeking to sense wards that shouldn’t be there disguising what could be activities either good or ill, instead they were focused on the Mage Academy, a Temple of Unity, the palace, the Legion Headquarters, and the Imperial Guard barracks… then she noticed individuals watching particularly well warded elvin Houses in the city.

  Focus on them.

  She concentrated on first one of those scryers, then another and felt the ancient presence slip past her, slip into their minds. She glimpsed… that these scryers weren’t even aware of what they were doing. They were assigned tasks they thought they were completing, as they poured their gifts into breaching those wards, glimpsing past them.

  Suborned, but they know it not.

  “But they should be well warded. They’ve taken the Oath.”

  Someone has suborned their Oath… These scryers are uniformly of an age. The question now is exactly what Oath did they take? Child, we need to know more and alone we cannot.

  “Are you mad?”

  Esperanza, you are a clever one. You have not been a very trusting soul.

  Esperanza shook her head. No, I’m not a very trusting soul. The Talisman, a pool of spelled waters at the Consecrated Tower’s had been destroyed by the Mistress of the Consecrated who had trained them, which left a gaping hole in the Network’s ability to scry the borderlands and Fenn du Blain’s stronghold, the mountainous Kingdom of Gwed.

  “Dustin,” she whispered.

  The Consecrated Tower suddenly blazed in her senses, connected in to the Oathbound Network she had established outside the Guild’s own. “Hey, Es.”

  “Dustin, or do I call you, My Lady?”

  She felt the journeyman Faeryn mage wince. “Please, call me Dustin… It’s difficult enough as it is for me.”

  “Dustin, I know this is hard, but you did volunteer.”

  “That’s not how I remember it.”

  “How is it coming?”

  “Physically the talisman’s whole again, but the water’s just water… I can’t get it to work for any of us.”

  “Keep at it. That you were even able to physically repair it should be considered a miracle.”

  “We’ve all the old minor devices working and the novices are handling them well. We’ve been getting glimpses of the Northlands, which we’ve passed on through proper channels.”

  “You’re linking with my people in Lyai and with Amira in Niota on schedule?”

  “Yes, Milady, and Amira’s got a new link to Rian’s Great Way… She won’t tell me anything about the new circle down there. But Hollif has definitely joined forces with Edous and turned back Fenn’s invasion out of the Northern Crescent. But I’ve a feeling that’s not why you’ve called…”

  “No, Dustin, it isn’t. I’m detecting some… odd messaging coming out of the Scryer’s Guild here in the capital. Can you link with Amira and the Lyai Circle?”

  “I can with a little help, but… um, I’d rather do this alone.”

  “Dustin… don’t be foolish.”

  “Yes, milady…I’ve someone I can trust, but make I’ll be Mistress,” he faded from her mind.

  “Amira,” she called. “Amira…” There was a stirring. She blushed. “Amira? What are you doing?”

  “Uh, Es, um, can… ahhhh, I’ll…. get back to… ohhh… you…”

  Hmm, you don’t get a link like that often, do you?

  “More often than I’d like,” she muttered.

  Chapter

  22

  Kolter glared. “I am depending on you.”

  The old elflord shook his head, “She should never have cast me aside… I would have learned of Lowel’s plans and stopped him. That she would even put her trust in this human over an elflord Academy trained no less?”

  “Grendel is our only hope,” Kolter said, “which is why I am depending on you.”

  “I may not be head of the Imperial Service anymore, but I have plenty of people loyal to me, who Terhun does not even suspect were my agents.”

  “Then I look forward to seeing your reputation put to good use for the Empire.”

  “Have no fear, Grendel will be Highmage very soon… and I will be honored to serve the Empire as the Head of the Imperial Service once more.”

  The Imperial Mistress of Scryers frowned as her Primus reported that the plotters schemes were coming to fruition. More assassins were entering the city, apparently staging for a crippling attack.

  “I don’t understand how they could suborn so many. And we’ve no idea who hired them?”

  The scrying master shook his head. “They’re outlanders. Most are coming upriver from Tane. But others are coming from Rian along the Imperial Way.”

  “And Lord Tristan y Tane?”

  “He’s fled the city with his personal guard. If his father’s behind this plot, it is logical for him to seek safety… Her Majesty will have to move soon or all will be lost.”

  The Mistress of Scryers muttered, “None of this makes sense.

  Foreigners, when Grendel’s inciting his kin to violence?”

  “Her Majesty is planning to marry the man.”

  With a nod, she went to the central fountain and filled a jeweled bowl and carried it to her desk. “I must see this for myself if I’m to tell Her Majesty to arrest so many scattered across the Seventh Tier.”

  Prim
us watched her as she sat. Half heard her scrying spell. She stiffened seeking the evidence that things were so dire.

  The fountain flowed, water cascading in an everlasting spelled stream. The sound of the dripping waters was soothing.

  “Uh, hi, Es,” Amira said as she linked.

  “I’ve your full attention now?”

  “Why, of course.”

  “Thomi seems… older than I recall.”

  “Yes, the Keep seems bent on changing him a bit.”

  “You’re not doing anything?”

  “Es, Thomi’s my husband.”

  “And Niota wants its elvin line back.”

  “Well, it has me.”

  “Amira, Niota’s a bit mad, isn’t she?”

  “She knows her duty and now can fulfill it again… She’s reclaimed the nearest lands, which I hope won’t irritate your husband.”

  “Don’t worry about Lee. Lyai’s big enough without claiming your small corner of the Empire… Now, the Tower’s going to link up and I’m calling up Lee’s Scrying Circle.”

  “You mean Talik’s Faeryn.”

  “They really like the Scryer’s accommodations better than that old rickety Hall they’d been laying claim to.”

  She could feel Amira grinning. “Then, Mistress, your private guild is at your disposals.”

  “We’re following our Oaths to the Empire even in this.”

  “I wish we could trust the entire Network.”

  “I’ll need the help of your new friends in Rian, whoever they are.”

  “Es, you really don’t want to know.”

  “Fine, but bring them in… if you’re sure we can trust them.”

  “Oh, we can. Heaven help the Demonlord’s minions who cross their path though.”

  “Let’s link up then.”

  The presence behind her linked, offering her all it——he was. The Consecrated Tower joined the link and Esperanza started to drip sweat, which flowed into her bowl. She focused on the Scryer’s Hall and its central fountain.

  The Temple of Unity rose in the vision from the jeweled bowl. The black robed figures bowed as the newcomer entered crossed the temple’s wards into the sanctuary, flanked by what the Mistress assumed to be guards.

  With a gesture, they rose. The figure turned toward her and lowered the cowl. The woman’s hair was streamed with gray. She looked worn beyond her years, “We mean you no harm.”

  The words rang clear in the Mistress’s mind, where no words should be.

  “Who are you?”

  “We seek sanctuary among our only kin,” she replied, and the Mistress knew the woman was telling her absolute truth.

  Her Primus had come up behind her to peer into the bowl. He drew a dagger in his gloved hand. It was of the type the foreigner carried. Taken from the hand of one who would have no further need of it. It was not charmed or elvin wrought. As she spoke, staring rapt into the waters he stabbed her in the back and twisted the blade deep into her heart.

  She gasped. The Scryer’s Network throbbed as her blood spilled in the bowl. The water rebelled against the invading substance as the Primus smiled.

  Murderer! The woman in the Temple cried as red clouded her vision.

  The elfblood mage frowned, turning at the cry.

  Betrayer of the Oath! screamed another in Elvish across the ether, breaching the wards he had counted on to forever conceal his act of murder.

  The old Mistress slumped forward, her vision clouded by tears, her mind still in the scrying spell. She saw the elvin woman who screamed, linked to a Scrying Circle that shown with golden light embraced by… she glimpsed a little girl, who was nodded and shouted, “Yes!”

  Suddenly she was linked to the very city itself and surrounded by the spirits that had dedicated themselves to build the Empire and save the world for the evil that would destroy them all.

  In that frozen moment, she passed on the Heritance. The waters of all the fountains and pools across the Scrying Halls scattered across the city churned and the city wards shrieked.

  The young woman gasped as the linkages forged throughout time, stretching the length of the Empire became the elvin lady’s.

  The moment passed with the death of the Mistress. The Primus cried out, the Right, his Right had passed to another.

  The woman in the Temple heard… the building ringing out like chimes in the wind and with the delighted laughter of little girl.

  “Esperanza, are you all right?” Lee shouted as her bowl shattered, raining its contents all about.

  Terhun wiped his face, “What happened?”

  “The Mistress of Scryers is dead,” she said, gasping for breath. “The Guild… it’s shattered as badly as my bowl.”

  The spilled drops of water pooled on the floor, then coalesced, forming larger pools that flowed to Esperanza’s legs. Glistening, the water changed, grew solid, changed color. She abruptly wore high boots.

  “Esperanza, exactly what happened?” Terhun asked.

  “Happened? Well, you needn’t worry about those black robed assassins. They mean no harm; although, those women will definitely be Lord Je’orj’s problem… The Guild was suborned. The Primus murder the Mistress… Between being supporters of Grendel or secret minions of the Demonlord many have been led astray. I glimpsed the Dark One’s followers fleeing the Halls. The new Mistress of Scryers has made them unwelcome.”

  “New Mistress?” Terhun echoed.

  Lee shook his head, “Es, you don’t mean…”

  “Uh, yes dear,” she replied, looking terribly angry, “it appears I’m the new Mistress of Scryers.” She glanced up and said, “and I’ve another mess to clean up.”

  Excellent work, my dear.

  The study door opened. Revit and Terus blinked again and again.

  “Uh, I’m hungry,” the pair chorused.

  “You skipped lunch,” Me’oh replied. “There are sandwiches there.”

  “Be sure to drink plenty of water or juice,” Balfour advised as Andre and Juels came out followed by a tired looking Je’orj, Se’and, and Cle’or.

  “Sorry, we apparently lost track of time,” George admitted. “Varian? What are you doing here?”

  “Her Majesty invites you to dine with her later this evening and sent a gift.”

  Shaking his head, “I think I’ve really had more than enough gifts, thank you.”

  “But, Milord,” said the man with a well-worn bag, “I’ve been commissioned to tailor you several fine new sets of clothes for Court. I’m here to but take your measure.”

  Se’and shook her head, “Never turn down clothes at someone else’s expense, Je’orj.”

  “Fine, but I’ll need to send my regrets about dinner tonight… It’s not like we’ll have an easy time getting through that crowd.”

  “Ahem, Her Majesty’s invitation is for you alone, Milord.”

  “Well, he’s going nowhere without me,” Se’and stated flatly.

  Cle’or said, “And somehow I think we likely have additional safety concerns… Or, my good herald, am I incorrect?”

  “Hmm, about that… Her Imperial Highness feels that as Highmage-designate, Lord Je’orj should be able to demonstrate how he is quite capable of protecting himself… He is, isn’t he?”

  “I’m not going to threaten everyone I meet,” he turned to find himself being measured by the tailor.

  :George, what other measures do you think the Empress is taking?:

  “Shut up,” he muttered.

  “Pardon me, Milord?” the tailor replied.

  “Nothing… Hey!”

  “Pardon me, Milord.”

  Juels paused to stare as Cle’or urged her to join the others in the kitchen. Shaking her head at the sight, she giggled, then hummed, grinning.

  The Primus fled the Mistress’s office the fountain exploding with water, which shoved him out of the room. Other fountains were exploding as scryers stared in wonder as the wards screamed. A journeyman fell as the wards shrilled and water flooded around h
im carrying toward the main entrance.

  A master was shot off a balcony as water jetted, knocking him off. He struck the ground with a splash and a wicked sounding thud. Another master cast fire from his fingertips, turning the water attacking him to steam. Scryers fled in disbelief, the waters flowing out of their way.

  An old master woke from his nap at his apprentices’ shouts. Coming out of his chamber he saw the fountains attacking a trusted elderly human servant. The waters tore at his face revealing a much younger man, who, cursing turned and ran. Once across the Hall’s wards waters rose and formed a face.

  “Master, what’s going on?”

  He frowned and stared, “It appears we’ve a new Mistress of Scryers and she’s linked to the city’s node.”

  “But the node’s a myth,” an apprentice said.

  The old master chuckled, “That what they been teaching you these days?”

  Journeymen and apprentices stared at the only master still in this annex of the Hall, a master who had no apprentices and rarely left the archives.

  “The node’s fallen inactive. It required warder mages to maintain it. Something’s woken it, likely this new Highmage-designate or that young lady.”

  “That’s Lord Lyai’s lady wife,” said a journeyman familiar with the Lyai links.

  “Someone scry her, please.”

  “Master?”

  They looked so young and confused. “Lady Lyai’s the new Imperial Mistress of Scryers. We need to let her know this annex is at her disposal.”

  “But we’ve no other masters.”

  He sighed. “That’s her problem… and if any of you are interested in knowing how the Scryer’s Network is supposed to really work, come see me in the kitchen… I smell fresh baked cookies, which suggests the cooking staff was suborned.”

  They stared, then the journeymen shouted, “Yes, Master!” One glanced at the half dozen apprentices, “Well, are you coming?”

  That left one journeyman to go up to the face suspended in the waters and sing out the scrying spell, “Ahem, Milady…”