Nightlord: Shadows (107 page)

First, Hagan. There wasn’t an exact fit, but the ornamental, wrought-iron arch over the garden gate was pretty close; we targeted that and I stepped through, carrying a large mirror. The gate snapped shut behind me.

Two minutes later, I had the attention of four guards and was being escorted to their captain. He listened politely as I identified myself, dropped off my gift, and asked to be escorted back to the garden.

There was some difficulty in that he wanted more information. I did my best to explain. It did not seem to comfort him.

“Look,” I finally said, “have the court wizard look over the mirror. In the meantime, take me back to the garden and watch me leave. If I’m
gone
, where’s the problem? Plus, you get to see how I leave. But the important thing is that I’m
leaving
, which means there’s no danger. I’ll even wait long enough for the court wizard to show up and watch, if you like.”

The logic of this appealed to him. I think the ability to share any blame with the court wizard was also a selling point. At any rate, they escorted me to the garden and met the wizard there. I sent Tort a message spell and they opened the gate.

I stepped through, waved, and the gate closed. It might be interesting to hear what sort of report they gave. Considering I was hopeful that Jorgen would be calling me to chat, I might.

Next up was Tolcaren; it was farthest west, so would take the most effort. For this, Tort and I cast a spell to allow us to think at each other constantly. If I had to leave in a hurry, I didn’t want to waste time with sending a message to open the gate. We made sure my typical magical defenses and my disguise spells were in good shape while we were at it.

Then I locked in on the palace at Tolcaren. It had a lot of arches to choose from; the thing was very old. Most of the doorways and all of the hallways were done with a rounded top. I picked one near the court wizard’s quarters.

Moments later, I was trudging through a hallway with a wrapped mirror under one arm. I knocked on the wizard’s door. Then knocked again. When he finally answered, he seemed to be in less than a good mood. Well, it was late.

“What?” he demanded.

“Package for Prince Rogis,” I told him, and held out the mirror. He looked at me as though I were a simpleton.

“Then take it to the Prince,” he said, snappishly, and slammed the door.

Polite bastard, isn’t he?
Firebrand asked.

Not so you’d notice,
I replied. I turned around and headed in the general direction of that portion of the palace reserved for actually living in. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was going; I hadn’t studied the layout all that much. A servant with a bucket and a brush was very helpful when I asked for directions; apparently, anybody in armor is someone to defer to.

I knew it was the door to the Prince’s family quarters because of the fancy-dress guards on either side of it. I approached, still holding the wrapped mirror in front of me.

“Package for the Prince,” I said. “Wizard said to take it up to him.”

They glanced at each other. One shrugged. The other accepted the mirror with a grunt; the things aren’t light.

“What is it?” he asked, hefting it into a better carry.

“Gift from the King of Karvalen. Magic mirror. It’s supposed to be some sort of thing for talking to him.”

The other guard looked hard at my sash. I wasn’t wearing a tabard, of course, but Firebrand’s hilt is distinctive and my sash isn’t exactly standard Rethven issue.

“And who are you?” he asked.

“King of Karvalen,” I answered. “Good evening. And now I’ll be on my way. Remember, you’re not to abandon your posts,” I finished, as I turned and walked away. I could hear Tort laughing in the back of my mind.

I got several paces down the hall while they struggled with what to do. You’d think they’d have some sort of standard operating procedures… then again, what’s the SOP for getting an unexpected delivery from a foreign ruler? Do you jump him? No? Do you chase him? No? What, exactly,
does
one do in these circumstances?

It turns out they decided to get instructions. One of them rapped sharply on the door, presumably to inform the Prince. I just kept going and made it back to my chosen archway before they sounded any alarms. T’yl and Tort opened it, I stepped through, and it snapped closed again.

Tort was still smiling. T’yl wanted to know what happened, so I told him, with a little help from Tort. He was as amused as she was.

Next, Maran. Considerably closer, it wouldn’t take as much to open, but we didn’t have any archway types of doors or ornamental trellises or whatever. The closest thing I could find in the place was a fancy, circular window about the right size—it had a circular piece of glass in the center, then wedge-shaped bits extending from there to the frame, all set in lead or tin or something. It would work, but it had the drawback of being in one wall of the Prince’s private study.

I gave serious thought to just burning the extra power to force a connection with a rectangular doorway. If there weren’t four trips—two for Maran, two more for Formia—to get through tonight, I might have done it. We could probably manage that, just on the charge left in the gate; if not, we could invest it with more power from simple spellcasting efforts, charging it directly.

But I don’t like having a low battery. It makes me nervous. If anything went wrong, or if the gate had to be open for longer than anticipated… yeah, I like having some margin for error. I have lots of errors; I want margin for them.

I did a quick check with a scrying spell. The Prince was up and going through paperwork.

Great.

On the other hand
, Firebrand pointed out,
we could just kill him on the spot and save the boring talking part.

“And then we’d have a war for certain,” I reminded it.

Yes?

“Yes.”

…and?

I sighed.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to have a war.”

Oh. Maybe we can have one later…?

“There is always that possibility,” I admitted. “For now, though, let’s try to be as diplomatic as possible.”

You mean, as diplomatic as it’s possible to be when you step straight into his study?

“Have I told you to shut up recently?”

No.

I waited.

Ah. Shutting up now.

Tort’s laughter was only in the back of my mind; her face betrayed nothing. I grumbled under my breath as we readied the gate again. It opened and I stepped through and down to the floor; it snapped shut behind me.

“Evening,” I offered. Prince Drannis looked up from his paperwork and studied me. He didn’t seem frightened, just mildly startled. He wasn’t a large man, but he had good shoulders. His hair was light brown, liberally salted with grey. He wore a beard, close-cropped, running low along his cheeks.

“Good evening,” he replied, sticking his quill into a holder. “If I ask what this is about, will I regret it?”

“I hope not. I’ve just come to give you a gift.”

“A gift unasked is often more trouble than it is worth,” he observed.

“A gift you ask for isn’t really a gift, either,” I told him. He nodded, slowly.

“Very well. I have other questions.”

“I’m sure you do,” I replied, and put the bundle of the mirror down next to the window. “I’m on kind of a tight schedule, tonight, but I can take a couple of minutes. That is, I can spare you a dozen flickerings of the candle.”

“Who are you, what is the gift, and why are you giving it to me?”

“Succinct. I like that.”

“Thank you.”

“In order, I’m the King of Karvalen, it’s a magic mirror so we can talk at greater length, and because we need to discuss your part in the invasion of my kingdom.”

“If you are who you say you are, I take it that you are not here to kill me?”

“Yep. That is, you are correct. I have no desire to kill you.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said.

“You’ve been listening to rumors about me,” I accused.

“Of course.”

“You should really try sending someone over,” I suggested.

“I did.”

“I mean, to talk. Not to invade. Gossip only goes so far.”

“Well, that’s true,” he allowed.

“Great. I look forward to talking with you about it. Just get your wizard—you do have a court wizard, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Your wizard should be able to use the mirror to reach me, or someone who works for me. It’ll work for you, too, but it’s easier if he shows you how. I’d like to work out a reasonable alternative to your invasion attempts. My first thought is to have a trading alliance, but I’m not a politician; I have people for that. We can work something out, I’m sure.”

“I do not think so,” he replied. He lifted a sheathed sword from where it had lain, out of sight behind his writing-table.

“Oh, for—look, before you start, can I at least ask why?” I asked. He hesitated and I pressed him with, “I answered your questions. Please?”

“Because I have no choice. Parrin has my daughters. I’ll not risk them for your sake.”

“Aha. That would be Prince Parrin, of Byrne?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough. I’ve been thinking that I may need to kill that man, anyway. This just confirms it.”

He drew his sword.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Oh, I’m planning to recover your daughters, first. I’m against the idea of him having hostages, especially children. You may have heard that about me.”

“Yes… I have,” he admitted. “But you will understand that I will not risk them.”

“No problem. We’ll talk about this more, later; in the meantime, you go right ahead doing whatever you need to do to keep them alive. I won’t hold it against you.” I paused for a moment. “Do you happen to know if Formia or Tolcaren are in the same boat?”

“Boat?” he asked, frowning.

“Are they being blackmailed? Does Prince Parrin have hostages from them?”

“I do not know,” he admitted, “and I do not care. All I care about is getting my daughters back.”

“Okay. I’m with you on that. We’ll work something out.”

The gate opened behind me and I sat down in the gate/window, rolled backward amid much clanking, and it closed after me.

“Did you get all that, Tort?”

“I did.”

“Anything from the spy network on that?”

“No, I have not heard of it. It is either a close secret, or is very recent.”

“Fair enough. T’yl? How are we on gate charge?”

“I am certain we have enough for Formia,” he said, judiciously, “but I should hope we have something much more accommodating than that window you just used.”

“There’s a big, fancy fountain in the courtyard. It’s got four arches on the lowest level of it that are almost exactly the right size and shape.”

He grunted, meaning that it was a good thing. I got another mirror and we prepared for my final jaunt of the evening. The gate opened and I stepped through and down again, this time into the palace courtyard.

The guard by the front door, leaning against the wall, out of the wind, straightened up with a startled oath.

“Evening,” I greeted him. “Delivering a gift to Prince Palays of Formia. Are you authorized to accept it for him?”

“I… that is, my captain... I’ll have to get someone…”

I leaned the mirror on the edge of the fountain, placing it carefully. I sat down on the rim of the fountain.

“Well, go on, then,” I encouraged him. “I haven’t got all night.”

He pounded on the door and someone inside unbolted it. He went in and closed it behind himself. There was a wait of several minutes, then the door opened again and a dozen guards came out, followed by a man in much fancier armor. The captain stopped just outside the door while the guards formed a line between us.

“Who are you?” he asked, without so much as a word of greeting.

“Just delivering this mirror to Formia,” I said. “I was going to explain how it works and what it’s for, but I’m sure your court wizard can figure that out. I’m in no mood to talk to a lowborn fool who doesn’t understand the first thing about courtesy.”

On cue, Tort and T’yl opened the gate behind me. I sat down on the edge of the fountain and rolled backward through the archway. The gate snapped closed and I stood up.

“Temper,” T’yl cautioned.

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I just don’t like idiots, and the captain was being one.”

“He did not know who you were,” Tort soothed. T’yl snorted.

“A magic portal opens in his courtyard and a man steps through,” he said. “It would strike me as wise to exercise more tact.”

“That was my thought,” I admitted. “Well, at least we’re done for the night. That was my last diplomatic mission. Hopefully, we’ll hear from them tomorrow.”

“Good,” T’yl said. “I’m off to bed.” He pushed the door open and headed off to his quarters. Tort shook her head.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. Do you have any other plans for tonight?”

“Actually, I do. I want to get some preliminary work done for enchanting the small mirrors.”

“I thought as much. You mentioned that they were to have an enchantment much like the ones on the large mirrors, but connecting each of the hundred to every other one.”

“Yep.”

“I already have Loret and Reena—wizards of the guild—at work on that.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “I’m not even sure how I’m going to do it, yet.”

“Come. Let me show you.”

So we went up to another room, this one large and mostly circular. A hundred small mirrors, complete with clamshell-style wooden cases, were sitting on the edge of a giant circle that took up most of the floor. No one was in there at the moment, but I could see what they had been doing. Lines were painted on the floor, running from one mirror to each of the others. Each mirror was being treated this way, symbolic lines of power connecting it to each of the others.

“Why paint?” was my first question. “Why not chalk?”