Shadowmage: Book Nine Of The Spellmonger Series (15 page)

“
Uh oh
,” Atopol said, rolling his eyes.  “He told you our
name
.  
Now
you’ve done it.”

“Apprentice!”
Hance said, sharply.  “This is
important
.  If you can do that, my lord, I think we can both advance our interests.  And His Grace’s, as well.”

“You have my word as a knight of Alshar,” Rondal assured, solemnly.  “But that brings us to the second part of our business tonight, gentlemen: the theft of that unfortunately gaudy cup.  I wish to assure you, Master Hance, that your apprentice did, indeed, successfully infiltrate the warehouse without detection, locate the chalice, bargain with me for it, and then escaped, again without detection.  The subsequent demolishing of the warehouse and the deaths and dismemberment of the Brotherhood within were entirely of
my
doing.  Atopol had the misfortune of encountering me in the midst of a rescue mission . . . much as it seems to have happened to his master,” he reminded the master thief.

“I appreciate the admission,” Hance nodded.  “And your honor for coming here during an important mission and sparing the time to make this report.  In truth, as adept as my apprentice has proven himself, what happened to that warehouse was far beyond his capabilities.  The river drakes were a nice touch,” he added.

Rondal bowed at the praise.  “The Brotherhood of the Rat has earned the enmity of my order, and had possession of someone we hold dear.  We felt a demonstration was in order.”

“And quite a demonstration it was,” agreed Hance.  “A feat of magic that hasn’t been seen in Enultramar since the Magocracy.  That is when my house first came here, amongst the Coastlords,” he explained.  “But subtle.  Only those familiar with the arcane arts will understand what happened, and even they will be hard-pressed to explain.  I confess some wonder at the act, myself.”

“Irionite,” Rondal answered, eschewing pretense.  “Now that the Censorate is overthrown and the Arcane Orders regulate magic, irionite is far more common.  With that kind of power available, the High Magi of Castalshar are able to freely practice our art.  With irionite, all manner of enchantment is being created,” he informed them, proudly.  

“The Three Censors still rule magic in Alshar,” Atopol said, ruefully.  “And they back the rebel counts.”

“They are the last of the old Censorate,” Rondal observed.  “Elsewhere their order is overthrown or transformed.”

“That is more than I wish to discuss, here in the open, where any casual ears may hear . . . shall you bring our intruder forth, Kitten?”

Atopol and Rondal both turned as another figure emerged from the shadows, far shorter than Hance, came out from behind one of the pillars of the pergola.  In its black-covered hand it carried a bright silver sword, slender and graceful, held with unerring firmness . . . at the throat of Tyndal.

“Gentlemen,” Tyndal said, through clenched teeth.  “
Lovely
evening, isn’t it?”

“Who
are
you?” demanded Atopol, a knife appearing in his fist out of nowhere.  

“I caught him skulking around the walls with all the subtlety and grace of a drunken cabaret dancer,” the young, masked apprentice said, scornfully.  “He pretends he was trying to hide.  I think I should cut his throat,” she decided.  “He’s cute enough, but so clumsy that it would be a mercy . . .”

“As appealing as I would find that, sometimes, I must object.  Gentlemen, may I introduce my associate, Sir Tyndal of Sevendor, fellow mage knight of the Estasi Order,” Rondal said, smoothly.  

Tyndal, what in nine hells are you doing here?
demanded Rondal of his partner, mind-to-mind.

I thought you might need some relief,
Tyndal explained, lamely.

Does it look like I’m fighting for my life?

“He . . . is one of
yours?
” the younger apprentice asked, the sword never wavering.

“Yes,” Rondal admitted, reluctantly.  “Sir Tyndal has many strengths.  Stealth is not among them.”

“I’m more of a cavalry charge kind of knight,” Tyndal agreed, seeming only mildly disturbed at the sword at his throat.  “I was just making certain no ill befell my friend.”

“Kitten
,” nodded Hance, and the apprentice sheathed the blade so quickly that it seemed to disappear entirely.  Tyndal looked relieved.  The apprentice looked disgusted, and removed the hood . . . revealing beautiful white hair, spilling to her neck, and shapely lavender eyes.  

“Apart from Sir Clumsy, the perimeter is clear, Master,” she reported with an insolent bow.  “How did Atopol do?  Did he
pass?
”

“
That’s none of your concern!”
Atopol retorted, angrily.

“Peace!” Hance insisted, impatiently.  “If Sir Rondal vouchsafes the man, he may remain.”

“Hmpf!  I hope he fights better than he sneaks around,” the girl, who Rondal figured at late thirteen, perhaps early fourteen.  “Otherwise, I’m
not
impressed.”

“I do,” Tyndal assured her with a sneer.  “I’ll be
glad
to show you, sometime.”

“Bring a couple of friends, make it worthwhile,” Kitten snorted.

“Sir Rondal, I apologize for my insolent apprentice.   She
clearly
needs more lessons in manners.”

“And Sir Tyndal could merit from such a study as well, so no harm done.  So if Atopol is the Cat of Shadows, I assume his younger sister is . . . the
Kitten
of Shadows?”

“
Gatina, the Kitten of Night
,” corrected the girl.  “It’s my
apprentice
name.  I’ll select something more intriguing once I complete my journeyman heist,” she bragged, surveying Rondal carefully.

“I take it our distinctive eyes gave away our relation,” Hance sighed.

“Lavender eyes are not common, as is white hair.  If your folk came here during the Magocracy, then I can only assume that your distant ancestor was Lady Kiera of Vore?”

“Well done, Sir Rondal!” smiled Hance, impressed.  “Kiera the Thief, she was known, and yes, she is our distant ancestress.  Though she’d retired by the time she and her lover immigrated to Alshar.”

“Who is Kiera?” Tyndal asked.

“A beautiful mage of Vore,” explained Rondal.  “She was the envy of the Archmage’s court, and extraordinarily talented at Thaumaturgy and Photomancy.  But there was a scandal, the details of which are lost to history, and she ended up stealing something from the Archmage before fleeing Vore forever.  She was known for her beautiful snow-white hair . . . and her bright lavender eyes.”

“Not many are familiar with that tale,” Hance nodded, approvingly.  “Fewer still know the full tale, which is a matter of family history.  But Kiera came here to Alshar, and she and her lover, Furtius, started a family here.  As she was being pursued by the agents of the Archmage, and her violet eyes and white hair were distinctive, she disguised herself.  Indeed, our entire family line went into a permanent masquerade.”

“But the eyes and the hair breed true,” Rondal nodded.  

“As does the considerable
rajira
that goes with it,” Hance agreed.  “In House Furtius, for six hundred years, we have remained quietly hidden, practicing our family traditions and maintaining the excellence of our craft.  Our menfolk tend to seek the most adept thieves for their wives, and our women are attracted to magi of considerable talent and subtlety.”

“Between the two, we remain the best shadowmagi in the world,” Atopol said, without bravado.  It was a simple statement of fact.  “I hope to find my equal in stealth and alacrity someday.”

“And I desire a mage of supreme subtlety, powerful intelligence, and considerable power as my husband,” Kitten said, dreamily.  “A man of position, but one whose ambitions are complemented by his wisdom.”  She blinked, suddenly.  “So far, Sir Rondal,” she nearly purred, “you are looking like
quite
the contender.”

“Gatina!”
Atopol gasped.  

“Forgive my daughter,” Hance said, sternly.  “She has only recently learned of her full legacy, and she has embraced it with
uncharacteristic
enthusiasm.”

“Well, Ron doesn’t actually
have
any prospects at the moment,” Tyndal offered, helpfully.  “And she’s fair enough, though she
clearly
needs—”

“Is that
true
, Sir Rondal?” Gatina asked, as her sword reappeared at Tyndal’s throat, without her apparently having to glance at the man to guide it.  “Does such a handsome young knight as yourself actually
lack
a prospective bride?”

“My lady,” Rondal said, carefully, “while that is true, at present I am dedicated to my mission.  I could not entertain a dalliance until I complete it to my satisfaction.”

“A diplomatic response, Sir Rondal,” Kitten said, her lavender eyes seeming to grow wider.  “And I find your devotion to duty . . .
intriguing,
” she purred.  “Yet I am not
suggesting
a mere dalliance.  I propose the consideration of
marriage
.”

“Gatina!”
Hance and Atopol nearly shouted in unison.

“What?”
the Kitten of Night asked, innocently.  “The rules say I must seek a husband of profound magical talent and skill.  The crater Sir Rondal left in the middle of Solashaven speaks of such a talent.  He is a lord, a knight of Alshar, even, and not a little handsome,” she decided, biting her lip as she inspected him.  “He
clearly
has some talent at stealth, as the book recommends, and he is without another bride for consideration – which is good, because I would mislike having to kill an otherwise innocent girl for his hand.  But I
might,
” she decided, cocking her head.  “I like the way his eyes look at me . . .”

“That’s
fear
you’re seeing,” Tyndal snorted, pushing the blade away from his throat.  “You’re scaring the
hells
out of him!”

“Master –
Father,
” she corrected.  “I think I
want
him.”

“He is not mine to give, Gatina!” Hance said, warningly.  “Leave the poor man in peace.  He is on a mission of importance.”

“She only wants him because he’s
my
friend and she wants to
ruin
that!” accused Atopol.  

“Oh, did
you
want to marry him, then? Gatina accused, her hands saucily on her hips.

“I
really
don’t think this is what we came here to discuss,” offered Rondal, nervously.

“What, do you find me
unattractive?
” Gatina asked, whirling to face the mage.  While the slender silver sword was not pointed at him threateningly, the deep lavender of her eyes seemed far more dangerous to Rondal.