The Assassin's Edge (Einarinn 5) (21 page)

“That’s ludicrous.” Shiv was shocked.

“If I’m weighing the balance against the Archmage, I’m taking myself off it.” Larissa’s tone strengthened. “I’ll prove my aptitudes with something not even Kalion and his toadies can gainsay. You’re exploring how mages might work magic together in less formal ways than a nexus. I have a double affinity; I have insights to offer.”

“That’s not actually why we’re here.” Usara scratched his beard. “Pirates have seized Suthyfer, those islands in the sea route to Hadrumal. We’re going to help D’Alsennin drive them off.”

“Then I can help too,” said Larissa promptly.

“The Archmage doesn’t want it to look as if Hadrumal is playing a part,” Shiv said firmly. “The Emperor won’t stand for it, for a start. If you come with us, that involves Planir.”

“Nobody in Toremal knows I share Planir’s bed,” scoffed Larissa.

“Everyone in Hadrumal does,” Shiv pointed out. “Kalion will be the first to pass on that tasty gossip, if he thinks it’ll discredit Planir among the influential Houses.”

“Surely it’s for the Sieur D’Alsennin to decide if he wants my help,” said Larissa defiantly. “Ask him.”

“I’m not sure—” Usara began hesitantly.

“If you’ve only just arrived you’ll need a room.” Pered stepped forward to forestall a forceful interruption from Shiv. “Shall we see if we can find you one here?”

“That’s a good notion.” Larissa accepted this adroit offer of a dignified exit gratefully. “We can continue this later.”

Shiv closed the door with an emphatic shove, green eyes indignant. “This is a complication we could do without!”

“You don’t feel sorry for her?” Usara obviously did.

“She’s only herself to blame.” But Shiv’s condemnation was half-hearted.

“You think Planir should live like some Soluran anchorite because wizards prefer gossiping about the Archmage’s lovers to pursuing their proper studies?” countered Usara.

“We can’t take her, ’Sar!” Shiv threw up his hands.

“You’re going to tell her she can’t come?” challenged Usara.

Shiv pursed his lips. “We could just leave without her? She’s never been to Kellarin or Suthyfer, so she couldn’t translocate herself there.”

Usara picked up the silver mirror in his hand. “Let’s just get on our way as soon as possible. That means we need Sorgrad’s help, even if we don’t want Larissa’s.”

“This is choosing between rotten apples,” growled Shiv.

“Stop complaining and pass me a candle.” Shiv obliged and Usara set it aflame with a cursory wave of his hand. “Let’s remember we’re looking to help Kellarin, not bicker among ourselves.”

Shiv swallowed some retort. “Can you reach all the way to Solura?

“If I can’t, you’ll have to go scrying for them.” The bearded mage was intent on his spell. In the next moment, the mirror lit with an amber radiance that startled Usara backwards. “Sorgrad, it’s me.”

Shiv stood at Usara’s shoulder to see two familiar figures scrambling away from the spell that had opened up so unexpectedly next to them. Huddled in a ditch beyond the bank of a hollow road, both had the fine blond hair and brilliant blue eyes of the truly mountain born. The first to peer cautiously into the magical void was stockier than his brother but at first glance they looked similar enough to wear the same collars.

“ ’Sar?” Sorgrad’s initial distrust softened into a broad smile. “What are you up to these days?” He brushed a few sere leaves off his blanket and sat cross-legged upon it.

“This is what bespeaking looks like from the other side, is it?” ’Gren dropped down beside his brother with sudden amusement. “Have you ever caught someone ploughing his lady’s furrow? Or someone else’s?”

“We’ve had word from Livak.” Usara spoke without preamble. “Pirates have landed on those islands in the mid-ocean that ships bound for Kellarin use as a staging post.”

“I recall the maps.” Sorgrad’s azure eyes were astute. They hardened. “I’m sure Planir has some cunning plan to sink them.”

“Pirates?”

’Gren raised a curious finger to poke at the spell before Sorgrad slapped it away.

“Planir says it’s none of his concern, nor yet Hadrumal’s,” Shiv said tartly.

“Ryshad and Halice are raising a force from Kellarin and we’re in Zyoutessela looking to do the same.” Usara matched the Mountain Man’s directness. “Livak said you could help us.”

“Zyoutessela?” Sorgrad elbowed his grinning brother in the ribs to forestall some comment. “Don’t know it but docks are much of a muchness, Col, Peorle, wherever.” He frowned. “We’re the wrong side of Lagontar.”

“We’ll hitch a ride to Nestar Haven and pick up a ship for Col.”

’Gren was already securing his blanket with a leather strap and foraging among the leaves for a battered leather backpack.

“Col to Attar, then across the Gulf of Lescar. We can’t get to you soon enough to be any use.” Sorgrad shook his head. “But I can give you a few hints to save you getting robbed yourselves.”

“We can’t leave Livak and Halice twisting in the wind.” ’Gren looked mulish. “And why should they get all the loot?”

“That’s an interesting point.” Sorgrad smiled. “Even advice should be worth some silver.”

“You won’t just help us for Livak’s sake?” Shiv looked disappointed.

“You should take to acting in masquerades, wizard,” Sorgrad laughed. “Livak would be the first one to take a rise out of me for not asking a fair price.”

Usara shrugged. “D’Alsennin can pay you a share in whatever loot the pirates may have.”

“We get to pick it over,” demanded ’Gren.

The wizards looked at each other. “If Halice agrees,” Usara said cautiously.

“But we want more from you that just advice. We want to bring you here to do this yourself.” Shiv bent closer to the mirror. “Sorgrad, how much elemental magic have you learned in Solura?”

Sorgrad’s face hardened. “Not enough to make this trip worth my while.”

“Have you any notion of translocating yourself?” asked Usara.

“The spell’s closely tied to air affinity,” Shiv assured him. “You should at least be able to try.”

“Pigs can try whistling but they’re still ill suited to it.” Sorgrad shook his head obstinately.

“Then we’ll bring you here ourselves.” Shiv absently rubbed his palms on his thighs.

“You drop me in the ocean, wizard, and I won’t drown until I’ve made you sorry for it.”

’Gren was looking wary and accordingly threatening.

“Sorgrad, I know you can summon a candle flame. You can hold this bespeaking steady to help us.” Usara set the mirror down on the table and Shiv hurried to sit opposite him.

“How?” Sorgrad asked with reluctant interest.

“Feel for the fire,” said Shiv. “Use it to maintain the circle of light.”

With the mirror now flat, Usara allowed himself a sceptical look at the other mage.

Shiv didn’t respond, concentrating instead on the mirror. “All you have to do is sustain the reflection.”

The spell dimmed and Sorgren’s cautious voice took on a metallic echo. “Like this?”

“That’ll do,” Usara assured him. “If we work cursed fast,” he added to Shiv in a low voice.

He planted his hands on the table and took a deep breath, staring unseeing at the white cloth. As he drew his hands round in opposing swirls, an azure trace lingered on the linen like a memory of blue sky behind fine cloud. Usara lifted his hands to cup them before him, cradling a swelling ball of slate-blue magelight. The sphere grew, paling as it did so from slate through indigo to the faint gold-tinged colour of a summer evening sky. The eggshell blue washed over the wizards and disappeared beyond the confines of the room.

Shiv’s eyes were tight shut as he pressed his palms together, arms outstretched. He spread his fingers wide and turquoise brilliance netted his hands. Fleeting, like lightning from a clear sky, it was gone almost before it was seen. The mage frowned and new strands of light appeared but still no more substantial than a spider’s web reflecting moonlight. Shiv took a deep breath and the tracery of power strengthened to ultramarine. He drew his hands apart with infinite care and the strands of magelight thickened and twisted, threads snapping and rejoining, coiling and spiralling upwards. As the weave extended, it grew thinner, paler. It reached the window and fled.

“Is something supposed to be happening?”

’Gren’s interested voice rang out from the silver mirror.

“You tell me,” responded Sorgrad curtly.

Usara’s head dipped towards the table and Shiv scrubbed sweat from his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Shit!”

“So we flag down a cart after all?” Sorgrad’s mockery betrayed a trace of disappointment.

“It’s too far,” Usara gasped. “When we’re reaching outside our own affinities.”

“We nearly had them.” Shiv flexed his hands and scowled. “We should be able to manage one.”

“We go together or not at all, wizard.” Sorgrad’s muted voice was uncompromising.

Usara looked at Shiv. “We could do it with Larissa’s help.”

Shiv groaned. “You’re not serious?”

“Show me another way?” Usara brushed faint traces of power from his hands. “Besides asking the Imperial Despatch to pack Casuel in a crate and send him along?”

Shiv rubbed at his temples. “I don’t know who’d be more trouble.”

“We have to do something,” snapped Usara. “Or we may as well go back to Planir with our tails between our legs.”

“Larissa can help us bring them here.” Shiv sounded distinctly unenthusiastic. “That’ll give her some insight into combining affinities that she can wave in front of Kalion’s cronies. But we’re not taking her to Suthyfer, agreed?”

“I don’t know if you’re interested but I can barely see you.” Sorgrad’s chagrined voice was fading fast.

Usara gestured and the wavering spell rallied. “We need help from another mage to bring you here. Don’t go far and we’ll find you when we need you.”

“You don’t think we’ve got our own plans for the day?”

’Gren’s distant voice challenged mischievously. Sorgrad’s response was too muffled to be audible and then the bespeaking shattered into glittering fragments that sank away into the mirror’s reflection.

“Curse it!” Usara snuffed the candle with an angry hand.

“Come on.” Shiv was heading for the door. “They can’t have gone far.”

Pered and Larissa proved to be the only people in the wide room occupying most of the inn’s ground floor. Too big to be called a parlour, too salubrious to be merely a taproom, its well-scrubbed tables and ladder-backed chairs could offer comfortable intimacy for two as well as convivial circles for larger gatherings. Curtains fluttered at open windows as a fresh sea breeze scoured the scent of the previous night’s wine and revelry out of the corners. Larissa and Pered were sitting by the wide arch of the hearth, a tray on the table between them. Pered expertly measured herbs into a hinged sphere of silver mesh, snapped it shut and dropped it into a fine ceramic cup. “Tisane?” he offered as Shiv approached. “It’s a local blend, decent enough, if a bit heavy on the linden leaves.”

“Please.” Shiv took a seat. “Larissa.” He hesitated as an aproned maid brought a jug of hot water from the kettle hanging over the fire.

“We find we need your help in working a spell.” Usara pulled a chair over from a nearby table and sat astride it.

Shiv waited until the maid had delivered more cups. “But please reconsider sailing with us after that. This whole voyage promises to be extremely dangerous.”

Larissa studied her cup, prodding the metal ball of steeping herbs with a spoon. Her hazel eyes were reddened and she clutched a handkerchief that Shiv recognised as Pered’s. “What do you need me to do?”

“Join us in a translocation.” Usara looked to see the maid was out of earshot. “We need to bring two people from Solura.”

“Solura?” Larissa looked up, startled.

“Western Solura,” Shiv offered, adding cold water to the tisane Pered handed him.

“It’s still a cursed long way.” Larissa wrinkled her nose in thought. “We need as much air around us as possible, somewhere outside, high up for preference.”

Pered passed a crystal pot of honey to Usara as the bearded mage grimaced at the taste of his drink. “You can take a carriage up to the top of the portage way. Everyone goes to see the views.”

“As long as we can find a reasonably discreet corner.” Usara looked at him.

Pered nodded. “There’s a park full of monuments off to the side of the square on the actual crest. Sieurs Den This and Tor That have spent coffers of coin to get themselves noticed, without realising no one gives them a second thought once they’re a generation dead.”

Shiv grinned. “Have you drawn everything in Hadrumal by now?”

“At least three times,” Pered assured him.

“Let’s get on, shall we?” Usara stood up.

Larissa drained her cup and raised an expectant brow at Shiv who sighed and set down his half-finished drink.

The bright sun outside was warm enough for Larissa to fan herself and unbutton her high collar. Swathed in silks and layers of muslins rather than wool, the ladies of southern Tormalin swept past, elegant in more unstructured styles than the formal tailoring of Hadrumal.

“Here!” Pered raised a hand as a hireling carriage deposited a flurry of giggling girls at a milliner’s opposite. “Up to the vantage point, if you please,” he told the driver.

Usara handed Larissa in beside Shiv who looked silently out of the window. The sound of iron-bound wheels on cobbles filled the coach.

“I wonder if Ryshad’s family built any of these?” Pered mused as the shops and inns of the commerce quarter yielded to sprawling houses; hollow squares of ruddy-tiled roofs above whitewashed walls shaded by trees fragrant with blossom. Stout walls encircled such dwellings, occasional open gates offering glimpses of busy households within. On the flagway either side of the road efficient servants delivered sacks and barrels, workmen carried tools and materials. Nursemaids gathered little ones skipping with delight safely away from rumbling carts and carriages while footmen escorted youths sullen at the prospect of lessons and maidens impatient at such chaperoning.

Usara studied the passing city. “Ryshad’s brothers live on the other side of the isthmus, don’t they?” he said at length. “Anyway, these houses would be five, six generations old, before the Inglis trade really started bringing in the coin. When would you say these were built, Shiv? Aleonne the Gallant’s reign or Inshol the Curt?”