Veilspeaker (Pharim War Book 2) (3 page)

“Pulling water from there air?” His voice was barely
above a whisper. His eyes were so wide Jez thought they would pop out of their
sockets. “That’s incredible.”

Jez shrugged. “I studied aqua magic at the Academy.
It’s not exactly dry down here. I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

It looked like his face reddened, though in the
darkness, Jez couldn’t be sure. The boy went to one knee, accidently wetting
his robes in the water from Jez’s working.

“Oh, forgive me, my lord. I am Sharim, Mage Villia’s
apprentice.”

“Sharim, please get up.” The boy did and started to
brush off his robe. Apparently realizing it was useless, he gave up and
inclined his head. Jez sighed. “What were you saying?”

“Only that it would not be wise for your guard to try
to escape. There are twice as many guards patrolling the dungeon than there
normally would be. Out of respect for your position, they’re staying out of
sight, but they’re here, and there are archers stationed at the end of the
hall. Is it true that you’re both limaph?”

For a few seconds, everything went silent except for
the sound of rats scurrying in some unseen corner. Jez and Osmund exchanged
glances. Osmund was one of the most powerful limaph in a thousand years. They
had circulated the rumor that Jez was one as well as a way to explain the
knowledge and power he’d gotten from Luntayary. Jez nodded slowly. Sharim’s
eyes grew even wider.

“He can transform?” Jez started to shake his head, but
Sharim went on. “I overheard you. Ziary is his scion? Did he give Lady Lina
that scar?”

Jez glanced at Osmund who shrugged. Jez nodded. “It
was an accident. He can’t really control Ziary.”

That wasn’t exactly true anymore, but Sharim nodded in
acceptance. “Can you transform too, Baron?”

“No.”

“They say that you—”

“I didn’t,” Jez said. “Please, it’s not something I
like talking about.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to offend. If
you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to Mage Villia.”

“What?”

“Mage Villia. Oh, I’m sorry. I’m jumping around,
aren’t I? It’s why I came down here. She was going to ask to speak to the two
of you after dinner, but...” Sharim waved his hand at Osmund. “She still wants
to see you, though, my lord.”

“I don’t know,” Jez said. “I should probably see if
Sileon has had any luck negotiating with Lord Varin.”

“That’s the thing. Lord Varin is furious. I don’t
think he will change his mind, but Mage Villia can intercede with the king on
your behalf.”

“And she’ll do that if I go talk to her?” Sharim
nodded. Jez turned to Osmund and gave his friend a half smile. “Well, Sileon
did say I needed to get allies at the court. I guess I could do worse than one
of Haziel’s mages. I’ll be back.”

Osmund nodded, and Jez turned to follow Sharim as the
boy dashed up the stairs and back into the keep.

Villia’s workshop took an entire floor
near the top of the south tower. It was a round room twenty feet tall. A
quarter of the wall was covered from floor to ceiling with shelves of books.
Tapestries and paintings covered the rest. A half-finished sculpture of a dog
sat in the middle of the room. Its head had been carved with such detail, Jez
half expected it to bark at him. Villia was seated at a nearby table. She was
staring upward and didn’t look down as Jez and Sharim entered. A picture of the
night sky had been painted on the ceiling. Jez stared at it for several seconds
before he realized the stars were moving across the image.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?”

Jez jumped. Villia was staring at him, and he realized
she had violet eyes. She was middle-aged and her purple robe seemed to shimmer
and reflect the stars from above. Jez glanced back at the ceiling. The full
moon was just coming into view at the western edge.

“It’s an illusion?”

Villia had a musical laugh. “Did you think I had
transported the night sky onto my ceiling?”

Jez found himself smiling. “No, I don’t guess I do.
Sharim said you wanted to see me.”

She turned to her apprentice. “You may go. Practice
tactile illusions, and come to me in two hours for a lesson.”

Sharim looked to Jez. “But...”

“I said go. I need to speak with Mister Dusanson
alone.”

“Bartinson,” Jez said through clenched teeth. “My
father’s name was Bartin.”

“Forgive me.” She glared at her apprentice. Sharim
bowed his head and disappeared down the stairs, and she looked back to Jez.
“Please take a seat.”

Jez sat down across from her. She stared at him for
several seconds, and he slumped in his chair, uneasy under the weight of her
examination. Finally, he broke the silence. “Sharim said you can help Osmund.”

“Your bodyguard?”

“Yes.”

“I believe I can. Is he truly a limaph? One of a pure
enough bloodline to transform?” Jez nodded. “And you?”

“I can’t transform.”

“You’re lying.” The frankness of the accusation caught
him off guard. He blinked and struggled to find his words, but she raised her
hand. “No, don’t bother denying it. You’re not a good enough liar to deceive
me. Your friend’s scion is of the Darkhunters?” Jez gaped at her. “I don’t
think any of the others could make a wound that wouldn’t heal. What about you?”

“I...I don’t have a scion.” Jez struggled to keep his
voice steady.

Villia smiled. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of
revealing your secret to anyone else. Neither will Sharim. Tell me, when did
you first learn you were a limaph?”

Jez’s mind was racing. “In painting class.”

“Really? I’d heard you bound a fear demon the day you
arrived at the Academy.”

Jez sputtered for a second. He hadn’t been expecting
to be questioned like this and hadn’t come up with a good lie to give, so he
settled on a partial truth. “Well yes, but I didn’t know what it meant then. It
was only after my paining class that Osmund explained.”

She got up and walked to a shelf that held several
rolled papers. Jez eyed her as he tried to regain his composure. She pulled out
one as long as her arm and brought it back to the table. The bottom fell out of
Jez’s stomach as she unrolled it. The picture was a masterpiece. Against a
background of stars, a purplish cloud had been painted that seemed to be
expanding outward. Near the top, the cloud became a vaguely human form, and
around its edges, seven robed figures stood garbed in all the colors of the
rainbow. Their faces were the only spots in the entire painting that lacked any
color. It was the picture Jez himself had painted when he’d first accessed
Luntayary’s memories, before Sariel had sealed them off.

Jez’s mouth had gone dry and it was several seconds
before he moistened his mouth enough to speak. “Where did you get that?”

“Master Kerag sent me a copy. It’s remarkable work. Do
you know what this is?”

He nodded. “It’s the creation of the universe.”

“According to Master Kerag, you’re a skilled painter,
but you haven’t created anything nearly on this level since your first day. Why
is that?”

Jez was so off balance by the questions that he could
only shrug. “I don’t know.”

Villia raised an eyebrow but didn’t accuse him of
lying again. He had a feeling she knew though. He looked over his shoulder at
the door, but she cleared her throat.

“How much do you remember?”

“Nothing.”

Jez spoke almost too quickly, but the mage was looking
into his eyes as he spoke. She pursed her lips and nodded. Jez took several
deep breaths as he forced himself to calm down. Villia leaned back in her
chair. The lights in the room had dimmed at some point, but now they
brightened. Villia let out a breath. Jez’s thoughts were racing. He thought
back and tried remember if he’d felt the characteristic listlessness that would
indicate a telepathic intrusion, but Villia shook her head.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t in your mind.”

“You know when someone says that, it’s a pretty good
sign they’re lying.”

Villia chuckled, and the sound did nothing to calm him
down. She was right though. Mind reading was complex magic, and very few could
manage it. It was also considered a high crime if done without consent. He
didn’t know if Villia had the ability, but even if she did, in his time at the
Academy, he’d learned to build wards around his thoughts. Even if she was
strong enough to break through, she wouldn’t be able to do it without him
knowing. He felt his face heat up.

“I take it I don’t have to continue to deny it?” He
raised an eyebrow, and she smirked. “I don’t need to read your mind when your
thoughts are written on your face.”

“What do you want from me?” Jez asked.

She waved at the painting. “I’ve already told you. I
want to know how you were able to paint this while remembering nothing.”

“It was instinct,” he said. “I was distracted and
didn’t realize what I was painting. It just happened.”

“And since then, you’ve remembered nothing?”

“No.”

“You’re lying again.”

It didn’t catch him as much by surprise this time, and
he tensed his muscles and nodded. Her eyes widened a little, and she drummed
her fingers on the table. He scowled at her.

“Yes, I am, but I don’t know you, and I don’t know if
I should trust you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m the only one who can get your
friend out of the dungeon.”

“Why did the king make Dusan the Baron of Korand?”

“Dusan was a powerful mage. With the Academy just
outside the borders of Korand, it made sense to give it to him.”

“Then, it was the king’s choice, not Dusan’s.”

Villia gave him a level gaze before letting out a
breath and shaking her head. “No, when Ashab died without an heir, Dusan
requested the title.”

“And the king just gave it to him?”

“Hardly ‘just’. Dusan gave up his lands north of Rumar
to get it. They had a greater income, but the title was higher as the Baron of
Korand. Many others would’ve made the same trade, given the chance.”

“Didn’t anyone object?”

“Oh, of course they did, but no one had as much
influence, and the income his lands brought the crown was considerable.”

Jez nodded. Assuming it was true, then Haziel had only
been used by Dusan. If Villia was lying, however, then not only the king, but a
powerful mage was his enemy. Still, if it could help...

“If you can get Osmund out, I’ll tell you what you
want to know.”

She looked him in the eye for a long time. Her gaze
made shivers run down his spine. The stars swirled above them for a few minutes
before fading, leaving a plain stone ceiling. Villia nodded.

“Lord Varin is insisting on a trial. I cannot prevent
that.”

“You said you could help.”

She grinned. “Oh I can. I’m the one who will preside
over the trail.”

Jez clenched his teeth as Osmund
walked into the chamber, flanked by a pair of guards. His hands were shackled,
and the chains at his feet grated as he dragged them across the floor. He
almost fell into the chair at the center of the room. On one side, a curved
platform held a long, semicircular table. Villia was seated at the center,
looking down at Osmund. The king sat at her right hand, and Jez at her left. Sileon
was seated next to Jez. Lord Varin and his daughter sat next to the king. The
illusion once again covered Lina’s scar. She looked away as soon as Osmund sat
down.

There were other chairs along the wall that held
various minor nobles, though they went silent as Osmund sat. A man with a brown
robe and a blue sash stood just inside the door, staring intently at the
prisoner. Jez could feel the power flowing out of him and around Osmund,
binding his power, though it wouldn’t be enough to stop Osmund from transforming.
Jez wondered if the mage knew that. The king waved a hand at Villia.

“Your Majesty, is this truly necessary? I have spoken
to Chancellor Balud, and this boy has already been punished for his crime.”

Lord Varin banged his fist on the table and shot to
his feet. His face was red. Lina tugged on his sleeve to try to get him to sit
back down, but he tore his arm away. “He assaulted my daughter and half a dozen
others. For that, he was banished from his school for a few weeks. That’s not a
punishment. That’s a vacation.”

The king cleared his throat. Varin blinked. For a
second, Jez thought he would actually shout at Haziel, but the lord inclined
his head and sat down. He put a hand on Lina’s, and she smiled at him before
glaring at Osmund, fear and anger mixed on her face.

“He makes a good point, Villia,” the king said. “That
punishment hardly fits the crime. Proceed.”

“As you wish. The accused is Osmund Jecklson, retainer
and guard to Baron Jezreel Dusanson,” Jez winced, but he let it pass. “His
accuser is Lord Varin Durnson of Quintiar. Lord Varin, of what do you accuse
him?”

“He assaulted my daughter and her friends, all of them
nobility. He wounded her with a magical sword that prevented her from healing.”

“Do you have the names of those assaulted?”

Varin looked surprised. “What?”

“The names, Lord Varin. You can’t accuse someone of
assaulting six nameless nobles. Give me their names or he will be tried as if
they were commoners.”

Varin looked at Lina. She let out a deep breath and
rattled them off. Jez didn’t recognize most of them. Like Lina, they had left
the Academy after Osmund had been readmitted. With every name, Osmund sank
deeper into his chair. Saying them seemed to banish Lina’s fear, and with every
one, her glare on Osmund intensified. When she was done, Villia nodded.

“What happened?”

“He attacked us,” Lina said. “He just turned into that
thing and attacked us.”

Jez was on his feet before he realized he was moving.
“That’s not what happened!”

Lina gave him a hard look. Unshed tears welled in her
eyes. The illusion covering her scar had fallen away, though she didn’t seem to
have noticed. Jez hadn’t realized how much the experience had affected her. He
sat down, but Villia glared at him.