Highmage (Highmage's Plight Book 4) Page 20
“For you, Milord.”
“Me?”
“It was foretold. But… it came out wrong.”
Se’and and Fri’il frowned.
“Then perhaps it was not foretold.”
She dropped her horse blanket, bowing. “I am bound as thy Cathartans are bound… I serve you, the mage like no other, Highmage of the Aqwaine Empire.”
George leaned on his glowing staff, which quipped, :Never look a gift horse in the mouth, eh?:
“Ahem, very well. Then tell me… What the hell were you thinking changing all those people into horses or whatever you are?!”
Her eyes widened.
“You robbed them of their free will!”
“But… they were betraying the Empire.”
“That’s no excuse!”
She paled and lost control.
Se’and and Fri’il stared in alarm.
:That’s just great, George. You’ve made her cry,: Staff said.
“Se’and, this is ridiculous.”
“You hurt her feelings!” she yelled back. “There, there now, it’s all right, Sister.”
George stared as the elfblooded horse-woman Se’and settled under the covers of his bed. “What are you doing?”
“What? You don’t plan to make her sleep in the barn anymore, do you?”
“She’s a horse,” he muttered.
“George, she’s a clearly a woman of this House.”
“Uh, no, she most definitely is not.”
“Wha… what do… you mean?” the gently sobbing person in question mumbled under the covers.
“There’s no doubt you are as bound to this House as we are,” Fri’il said.
Nodding, Se’and replied, “That makes you one of us.”
“Wonderful, another foster-daughter,” George said.
“Who said anything about a foster-daughter. She’s bound, heart and soul, poor thing.”
Lonny peered from beneath the blankets.
“Better married to her than that… that…,” Fri’il said, “Empress in the palace.”
“What?!” Lonny exclaimed sitting up, throwing off the covers. “Him! I can’t marry him!”
He stared, shaking his head with Staff laughing in his mind. Ri’ori began to cry and Fri’il glared, “You’re scaring her! Hush, sweetie, it’ll be all right.”
“I can’t marry him… bear him foals, certainly. But I can’t marry him!”
:Foals!: Staff chortled.
“Se’and!” he shouted.
The guests stared at the damage, then heard the screaming upstairs. Me’oh said, “I’m afraid you’ve arrived at a bad time.”
Abernathy frowned, “Actually, I’m here to speak with… Aaprin, Revit and Terus.”
Terhun met with one of his best local agents. “Lady Esperanza has told me not to be concerned about all these strangers entering the city… but I’m rather curious by nature. Find out who they are… and don’t get into trouble. I don’t have anyone to spare.”
Ruke swallowed, “You can count on me, Sir.”
“And don’t lose that charm I gave you unless you need to, if you understand my meaning.”
The former urchin did. The charm would ward him from scrying by foe or friend. If he thought he was going to be captured, his only hope of succor might be had in ditching that charm.
So it was that a much better dressed, still not too proper looking, Ruke slipped down-Tier and as he slipped through the Sixth, he was surprised to see Aaprin’s father Lucian, dwarves accompanying him heading down the street. With many keeping off the streets, Lucian
Summerfelt was definitely a curious sight. Then again, he was on a mission. He would note what he had seen in his report, but it was events in the Seventh Tier that mattered to him now. Returning to the old haunts he knew so well he began staking out where the Scryers were noting the black robed women gathering.
In particular, the abandoned manor caught his eye. Workmen were bringing wood and brick, cartloads to the old manor with its burnt down wing. Black robed guards were clearly stationed about the place. Those that were too curious, many thinking to rob the fools moving into the rather dangerous neighborhood, found the guards rather nasty, and very good with a bow.
Ruke loved a challenge and chose his moment carefully, scaling first the outer wall, then the manor wall before hiding in the shadow of the roof. Quietly edging along the roof he reached a window open, airing out the house. He listened, heard nothing untoward and slipped inside. He crept across the room and peered into the hall.
“We can’t have come here just to spend the rest of our lives cleaning!” the brunette human adolescent shouted.
“Mahr!” her friend yelled back.
“This is intolerable… We couldn’t just move into a proper inn, or better yet, a fine manor?”
“Mahr!”
“Za’an, stop saying my name like that… Oh, I’ll do it. This place is better than the ship, but wait until I tell my mother about this. She’ll set things right, she will.”
“Mahr, before you get us into any more trouble, do go upstairs and sweep the bedrooms. They’re bringing the cots soon.”
“Just you wait,” she said climbing the dusty stairs. “My mother will set things to rights…”
Ruke checked room after room. There were packs set in the third room. He looked through them, frowning. Bedrolls, frilly underthings, and some kind of wrap band.
“Find anything you like?”
He spun and stared at the adolescent girl.
There was a dagger in her hand. “If you’ve come to rob us, you’ve really come to the wrong house.”
He dropped the breast wrapping. “Would you believe I’m on a mission?”
“A mission?” The blade slipped into a throwing position Ruke recognized.
“By the Empress, you’re Cathartan.”
“And you’re a fine looking young man. It would be such a waste to have to kill you.”
He bowed, “Milady, if I allowed that, Lady Cle’or would be quite put out.”
She dropped the blade, “You know Cle’or! How is she? No, no, better yet, where is she?”
He blinked. She had a beautiful smile.
“Tell me, please.” Her eyes were lovely, too.
“But everyone knows that.”
“Not everyone silly… We’ve only just arrived.” She took him by the arm, “You must be thirsty. We’ve tea brewing.” He found himself being led into the hall, “Za’an! We’ve a guest for tea!”
Her friend looked up and stared. “Good heavens, Mahr, wherever did you find another boy!”
“I think I’ll keep this one,” she said, smiling as a number of Cathartan girls near her age dropped rags and brooms.
They stared. “It’s a boy…” they muttered.
“He’s our guest,” Mahr said to her friends and Ruke began to feel like dinner.
Chapter
27
Aaprin rubbed his eyes. “Archmage Abernathy wants to see us?”
Gallen sat up as Revit and Terus roused him. “Why do you think he wants to see the three of us?”
“Aaprin, do you think this some trick?”
He glanced at her, “Keep an eye on us.”
With a thin smile, she said, “With pleasure.”
When they came downstairs the Faeryn archmage rose from the salvaged chair that Cle’or offered him for his wait. “Ah, Aaprin, young Revit and Terus, it is a pleasure to see you three again.”
“Archmage,” Aaprin said, inclining his head in respect.
“Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”
Cle’or gestured Spiro, who had positioned himself at the gaping front entrance, away, then asked Andre and Juels to check on the horses in the stables. Raven rose and joined Cle’or. Balfour was asleep upstairs with Me’oh and their child, or likely trying to, based on the shouting going on upstairs at the moment.
The Faeryn archmage settled back in the chair. “Young gentlemen, I heard what yo
u accomplished in the middle of the night.”
“Likely the entire city has,” Terus said, chuckling.
“You took on thirteen mages and you but apprentices working with a single mage, even if he’s the Highmage-designate. That is rather impressive.”
“Think nothing of it,” Revit said, grinning.
“It was just a bit of fun,” Terus admitted.
Aaprin frowned. “We were linked to Lord Je’orj.”
“You three are not apprentices. You displayed journeyman level skill, albeit, what might best be termed human magery.”
“Be that as it may,” Aaprin said, “we’re still just apprentices.”
“Yet you are truly more now… and that is going to prove rather important shortly.”
“What are you talking about?” George asked from the top of the stairs.
The archmage glanced up. “Stenh took the Academy beyond Underhill. I am concerned he may need help returning.”
Aaprin gasped, “He took them into the Old Hall?”
“You know if it?”
Hesitating, he nodded, “I read a book or two from Master Stenh’s private library. It was, uh, mentioned.”
“Then you knew how dangerous the Old Hall is.”
George came down the stairs with Se’and frowning as she followed, while Raven bounded out of the kitchen to be at his side.
Aaprin replied, “Lord Je’orj, I… I don’t think Master Stenh will be able to bring the students back.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ll need a warder mage and no one even knows how they were trained excepted according to the book I read you they were trained in the Old Hall.”
“So the book gave not even a hint?”
“A hint or two, perhaps,” Aaprin admitted. “But it’s not like they made any sense.”
“Lord Je’orj,” Abernathy said. “Stenh will need your apprentices for just a few days, if he’s to—”
“You mean a few days from our perspective, but weeks or months from theirs?” George said.
“So I suspect,” Abernathy admitted.
“You suspect? In other words, they could be trapped there forever.”
“Not if Aaprin and this pair go.”
“You expect them to go back to being students?”
“Actually, uh, no, I expect them to join the faculty…”
Fri’il glanced over at Lonny staring back at her, the covers tucked close. “Why did I never realize you were more than a horse?”
“Well… that’s my gift.”
“So, battle steeds can make you forget.”
“No. Some were said to possess the gift and I… possessed the gift.”
“Are we going to forget again?”
“What? I can’t do it to you anymore.”
“Why?”
“I’m part of your herd now.”
“Uh huh.” Then Fri’il had another thought. “My mount… he’s a battle steed, too, isn’t he?”
“Ah, hmm, you can say that.”
“Exactly who am I riding?”
“He’s a rather nice… boy. Fine stable boy… he was, in fact.”
She blushed. “I’ve ridden him bareback…”
“Lord Je’orj and Se’and did that to me last night.”
“Oh my, let’s not remind him of that…”
Lonny’s giggle came out close to a whinny.
Fri’il couldn’t help but laugh.
Tap, tap, tap, that echo is going to drive me crazy, Clawd thought as he followed the ogress and the old man through the secret warrens beneath the tiers. Warrens that no one ever talked about!
The old man stopped. “Young fellow, remember your promise, you’re to tell no one of this. Even mentioning there is a tunnel to George’s manor could prove hazardous to your friends’ health.”
“I promised… but why have I never heard of these.”
The ogress turned and chuckled. “Be glad… you are… authorized.”
The boy swallowed. “Uh, you didn’t offer me safe passage only to, um, eat me, did you?”
Mallory smiled. It wasn’t pretty. “Too dangerous… for you to… slip back out… the way you came.”
“After last night charm or no, people who wish you ill would be waiting. And, we can use an errand boy.”
“Um, I’m already Oathbound.”
“That’s why you’re perfect.”
“Huh?”
The old man put his arm around Clawd’s shoulder. “Now lad, ever consider the life of a page at Court.”
“A what?”
“You are going to love it.”
“But… but… I’ve my friends to get back to…”
“Oh, that’s the beauty of it, lad. Lord Je’orj is to be married to the
Empress. I’ve no doubt you’ll have plenty of friends in the palace soon enough.”
“Huh?”
“You’re scaring him… Melvyn. Let’s get… along.”
“Stop calling me Melvyn!”
The ogress chuckled, “Of course… whatever you say… Melvyn.”
“Faculty?” George said as his apprentices gaped. “Are you mad?”
“I’m a Faeryn mage. That’s practically the definition of mad… Look, Lord Je’orj, now that Lady Esperanza is the new Mistress of Scryers--”
“What?!”
“Hmm, you really must keep up with events in the city,” Abernathy said.
The human Highmage-designate glanced back at Se’and, who shrugged and whispered, “Sorry.”
“Where was I? Oh, yes, her becoming Mistress of Scryers is going to drive the Great Houses that sided with Grendel insane.”
“So, what’s this got to do with us?” Terus asked.
“Do?” Abernathy asked. “The Scryer’s Guild is no longer completely blind to what’s happening in the city and across the Empire. Esperanza’s becoming Mistress opens possibilities for all of us… yet too many mageborn are scared.”
“Many have fled Underhill with their families, if not left the city entirely,” Se’and said.
“So not completely in the dark, good, good,” Abernathy replied.
“You need loyal Academy mages,” Aaprin hazarded.
“Indeed… the wards are thrumming to the Sight, which means the ancient node’s revived.”
“And you think Master Stenh has somehow done it?” Aaprin muttered. “The node has been quiescent for nearly a thousand years.”
“Which is when last there were any warder mages,” Abernathy offered. “Do you understand?”
Aaprin swallowed hard. “You think Stenh’s initiated it… but doesn’t grasp how to train warder mages to maintain the node.”
“Exactly! Then again, perhaps something else has initiated the master node,” Abernathy replied. “But if that’s true we’ll need warder mages more than ever!”
“You would have me sanction their going blinding into this?” George rasped.
“Stenh did one other thing before he took the remaining students into the Old Hall. He knew he had too few, so he secreted a group of students no one else wanted, either.”
“What are you talking about?” Aaprin asked, fearing he already knew the answer.
“He took the poorest of the elfblooded girls that have been flooding the Mistress of Magery’s School this many years past.”
Revit and Terus began laughing.
George glared, “What’s so funny?”
“Girls in the Academy! Oh, the fun we can have, Revit!” Terus gasped.
The blond haired boy fell down laughing as Aaprin blushed. “Uh, the Academy training is not something I’d wish on any girl.”
Abernathy nodded, “It wasn’t a picnic in my youth, either.”
Herald Varian watched several of the legionnaires doing what the sergeant had done, staring into the eyes of what were a size larger than the warhorse, not a few of which were rather, as they say, long in the tooth.
Spiro sidled up to him. “Well, aren’t they a sight.”
“Well, you don’t see battle steeds bounding legionnaires much anymore, do you?”
“Battle steeds? What are you talking about? Lord Je’orj and the apprentices just cursed these fellows.”
“Quite a Highmage he’ll be then,” Spiro said, chuckling. “Always wondered about that first tale of the steeds.”
“Huh?”
“You must know it, Sacrifice Born… tis quite a sad tale really.”
Tett should his head.
Spiro straightened and sang:
“From Sacrifice born saved legions about to fail,
Start’d whin darkness didst well, crossing hill and dell,
Began with the by-blow boy the commander refused to claim,
He mucked the stalls and earned a piddlin’ wage,
The elfblood sire no desire to reclaim,
Yet his horse he prized, which the lad did tend,
In darkest battle it faltered, his father captured by the dread,
The legionnaires fell back sure their leader slain,
The boy exhorted, he lives, he sclaimed,
He gripped the reins of the nearest mount only be thrust aside,
Nay, young waif, legionnaire didst say, find thy own and weapons light,
He spied a bane sword and pried it from a dead mage’s grip,
Help me, he cried, but need a steed and this blade in Legion’s hand,
Must turn the tide of dread that shakes the land,
The sword did glow and heeded the plea of this lowly lad,
Magery lent him hoof and stature great,
On ran he fighting to Legion’s awe, following in his wake,
Rescuing the commander ‘ere death til bane reach his grasp,
He mounted steed marvelous as Legion charged,
Driving back the dark whence it came,
The commander rode that mount ever after,
Loving it more than ever he could the son forgotten,
Whose tears brimmed with joy and hurt, evermore,
From Sacrifice Born legion’s sav’ed,
From Sacrifice Born, Empire sav’ed,
From Sacrifice Born, Pact made.”
Tett glanced at the upstairs window, then back at the two remaining steeds peering from the barn. “Quite a pact,” he muttered.