Veilspeaker (Pharim War Book 2) (5 page)

“There,” she said. “I don’t want to send anymore magic
through you.” She turned to Jez. “Don’t give him undue stress. He still needs
rest.”

Jez nodded.

“Thank you Mage...”

“Paleel,” she said as she brushed an auburn strand of
hair away from her face. “Though you’re generous to label me a mage. I’m a
simple healer.”

Jez inclined his head. “Thank you all the same,
Paleel.”

She blushed. “I’ll be in the next room if you need
me.”

She scurried away and Jez went to stand by his friend.
Osmund gave him a weak smile and took a cup of water sitting near his bed. He
drank before sitting up.

“What happened?” Jez asked.

“They came at me from behind. There were only three at
first. Then, half a dozen more appeared out of nowhere.”

“Why didn’t you transform?”

Osmund smirked. “Transform to fight off half a dozen
common footpads? As if I needed that.” He looked down at a bandaged wrapping
his hand and grimaced. “At least I thought I didn’t need it. I was afraid to
use magic too. I thought that would only make things worse for us.”

Jez nodded once and leaned in closer to the bed,
trying to ignore the shivers running down his back. Whatever else Osmund might
be, he was still a skilled battlemage, and it would’ve taken far more than a
handful of common thugs to do him any lasting harm.

“Who did this?” Jez pitched his voice low as his eyes
darted around, making sure no one was close enough to hear.

“I don’t know,” Osmund said. “My attacks kept on
missing. It’s like they weren’t there. I think some of them might’ve been
illusions. Their fists were real, though, and I did manage to blacken one’s
eye.

“Illusion,” Jez said under his breath.

“Lina’s specialty,” Osmund said. “She certainly has a
reason to hire men to attack me.”

Osmund tried to sit up straighter, but after a few
seconds, he slouched back into his bed. Jez moved closer and took the cup from
his hand and put it on a nearby table.

“Don’t strain yourself. I’ll take this before the
king.”

“We don’t know anything for sure.”

“We know someone who was good with illusion attacked you.”

Osmund let out a long breath. “I don’t think that’s
enough, Jez. You might be out of your league here. Lord Varin—”

“I still outrank Varin.”

“Rank isn’t everything.”

Jez shook his head. “I only need political maneuvering
if I’m planning on being subtle.”

Jez strode up to the door of the
throne room with his head held high and glared at the guard who stepped in
front of him. Rather than move, the stony faced man lifted a hand and held it
to Jez’s chest. Jez wondered if he could feel his heart racing. He scowled.

“Let me through.”

The guard brought his free hand to the hilt of his
sword and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

“I am the Baron of Korand, and you will let me
through.”

“The king is in conference with Lord Varin.”

“Good. That stops me from having to summon him.” Jez
looked into the guards eyes, and emphasized every word. “Now. Let. Me.
Through.”

It was almost laughable. The man was at least a foot
taller than Jez and built like an ox. Faded scars ran down his arms, and his
hands had the callouses that only came from years of working with the sword. He
didn’t even flinch. In a straight fight, Jez wouldn’t stand a chance, but he
had never intended to fight fairly. The guard wore a mail shirt, and though Jez
hadn’t studied terra magic in depth, it was an area he was naturally gifted in,
especially in the application of brute force. He raised a hand and caught the
guard’s armor in his power. With a grunt, the man fell to the ground, held down
by his own mail shirt. Jez stepped over him and pushed open the door.

Jez stepped inside to find the king, Lord Varin, and
Lina glaring at him. Sharim and Villia, both of whom stood nearby looked
surprised, but Varin’s face was red with anger. The bearded man Jez recognized
as one of Lina’s guard took a step forward to intercept him, and Jez saw his
blackened eye. Instantly, rage filled Jez, and blue light shone from his hands.
Propelled by his armor, the guard flew back and slammed against the wall. The
impact of metal on stone sent sparks flying.

“Villia,” the king said in a steady voice.

Jez felt a barrier forming between him and his power.
His eyes widened. He’d learned how to do that at the Academy. Forming a barrier
required countering the magic that was being worked. Only then could they be
cut off. It couldn’t be done otherwise, but yet he could feel the barrier
forming while he held the guard against the wall. His eyes locked on Villia who
had her hand raised toward him. Sharim stood behind her with eyes wide. Jez could
sense the energy welling up in her. He formed a barrier of his own. The guard
slid down the wall as Jez tried to separate Villia from her power. His barrier
fizzled as Villia’s settled into place.

“His power is bound, Your Majesty,” Villia said.

“Good,” Haziel said. “Now, Baron Jezreel, would you
care to tell me why you charged into my throne room and assaulted those under
my protection?”

The man who’d been guarding the door came in with his
sword drawn. Haziel lifted a hand but didn’t order him to put away his weapon.
Jez suddenly found himself feeling less sure of himself. The king’s steely gaze
felt like it put the weight of a mountain on him. Jez clenched his teeth and
glared at Varin.

“I only did what he already did.”

“What he already did?” the king asked. “Even if that
were the case, that is a child’s excuse.”

“It’s not unexpected, Your Majesty,” Varin said.
“After all, he is a child.”

Jez’s face heat up, and he tensed his muscles. Sweat
formed on Villia’s brow, and she raised her other hand, but Jez didn’t reach
for his power. It would’ve been pointless with the barrier in place. Instead,
he pointed at Varin.

“He sent men to attack my bodyguard.” He looked at the
bruised guard. “That one was one of them.”

Varin chuckled. “Ah, I see. Forgive me, Your Majesty.
It would seem this was my fault. I hired away his advisor. It was no more than
I would do to any potential rival. I forgot to take his youth into account. No
doubt Sir Sileon helped him keep his temper in check.”

“What?” Jez said, his anger defusing.

“Brallion,” Varin indicated his guard, “is guilty of
nothing more than being clumsy going down stairs.”

Brallion inclined his head. A smile formed on the
king’s face. “Perhaps you’re right. I may have summoned him to court too soon.
Perhaps another year or two at the Academy will properly season him.”

“No,” Jez said, “that’s not—”

The king’s sharp voice cut him off. “You were not
given leave to speak, Baron Jezreel.”

“But he attacked Osmund. Lina used her illusions—”

“That’s enough,” Varin said as he came to his feet.
“Accuse me if you wish but leave my daughter out of it. She has nothing to do
with this.”

“Who else would have a reason to do it?”

“Practically anyone.”

“What?”

Varin rolled his eyes. “It’s no great secret that your
bodyguard is a monster.”

“Osmund isn’t a monster.”

“No, he just transforms into a creature who attacks
innocent children.”

Jez bit back a reply about how Lina was anything but
innocent. Instead, he turned to the king, but Haziel looked on him as if he was
a child. Villia kept her arms raised, and she was shaking her head slightly.
Jez let out a breath. He’d blundered badly. He hadn’t even lost control of the
situation. He’d never had it. The smile on Varin’s face told him the lord
hadn’t even been worried. Jez turned to go, but the sound of the king clearing
his throat stopped him. The man who had been guarding the door tightened his
grip on his sword. Jez looked over his shoulder. Haziel was glaring at him. Jez
realized what he was doing and turned and bowed.

“With your permission, Your Majesty.”

“I believe you owe Lord Varin an apology for the
slanderous accusations you brought against him and his family.”

Jez flinched, but there was nothing to be gained by
further argument. He nodded.

“Lord Varin,” he said through clenched teeth. “Please
accept my apologies. I spoke without thinking.”

Varin gave him a patronizing smile. “Don’t give it a
second thought. After all, I’m not so old that I don’t remember what it’s like
being young. I’m sure given time, you’ll learn wisdom.”

With those words, Lord Varin neatly painted him as a
child in the eyes of the king, and any political power Jez had started to
gather had been destroyed. He inclined his head and strode out of the throne
room, feeling completely defeated.

With no idea of what else to do, Jez
climbed the stairs to Villia’s tower to wait for her. Once at her door, he
closed his eyes and extended his hand, intending to sense wards or other
workings, but the door swung open at his touch. The workshop felt cold without
Villia in it. Jez’s eyes wandered upward. The stillness of the ceiling was
unnerving after seeing the stars dance across it. He sat at her table and
started flipping through a book of astronomy. He’d only been there a few
minutes when a shadow appeared in the doorway. Jez rose, but it was Sharim. The
apprentice nodded at Jez before taking a seat across from him.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Sharim said.

“I know,” Jez said. “I expected Varin to deny the
accusation, but I didn’t think he’d just dismiss me.”

“Do you really think he’s responsible?”

“He said he could take anything from me less than an
hour before it happened. His daughter focused on the dominion of shadows at the
Academy. She’s obviously good with illusions.”

“That’s hardly proof.”

“I think that’s what he was counting on. I can’t
really get proof if he has that much influence with the king. He’ll just keep
standing in my way. I was hoping Mage Villia could help.”

“Lord Varin is an expert at subtle manipulations. Have
you thought about a more brute force approach?”

Jez lifted an eyebrow. “How do you think I got into
this situation?”

Sharim’s face reddened, and he brushed at a
nonexistent spot on his robe. “Right. I meant have you tried a purely magical
solution?”

“Like what?”

“Did you ever study the dominion of secrets?”

“Theology.”

“But not divination?”

Jez shook his head. “It was never an area that
interested me. Can you use it to prove Varin sent men to attack Osmund?”

“Maybe. It isn’t as precise as other schools of magic,
but I think it would point us in the right direction.”

He opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a silver
saucer. Runes had been etched in the metal, though the only one Jez recognized
was the one for water. Sharim dipped it into a nearby barrel and brought it
back to the desk. The water shimmered in ways that didn’t quite match with the
light of the room. Sharim drew a crystal hanging from a chain out of a drawer.
He closed his eyes and murmured a few words as he dragged the crystal through
the water.

“He was attacked two hours ago in the alley near Bakers
Street, right?”

“I don’t know,” Jez said. “I never found out.”

Sharim flinched but nodded. “I think I heard someone
say that.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“You’re a limaph,” he said with smile, “and I’ve heard
stories.”

Jez resisted the urge to turn away. “Those are just
stories.”

Sharim’s grin said he saw through the lie. “Maybe.
Give me a few seconds.”

Though the water in the saucer was less than half an
inch deep, it grew murky until Jez couldn’t see the bottom. Vague shapes moved
around inside, there one moment and gone the next. They never resolved enough
for him to get a clear picture though. He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the
images before Sharim let out a breath and stopped chanting. Instantly, the
water cleared.

“It’s not working.”

“Well, you did say it wasn’t precise.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve had divinations give me
obscure answers, sometimes to the point of being completely useless. This time,
I got nothing.”

“What does that mean?”

Sharim shrugged and examined the saucer. “I’m not
sure. All the runes look intact, so it’s probably not the scrying bowl. It
could be that whoever attacked Osmund took steps to protect themselves from
scrying. Still, to stop me from getting even a hint means someone of extraordinary
skill and power.”

“Lord Varin attended the Academy, didn’t he?”

Sharim nodded. “After his father was raised to the
rank of Lord, he had the funds and prestige to attend as a member of the upper
tier.”

Jez paused for a second, trying to puzzle out what he
would need to shield himself from divinations. “Protection and secrets.”

Sharim inclined his head. “They say he was very good
at them.”

Jez raised an eyebrow. “Those aren’t exactly noble
areas of study.”

“Don’t you study protection?”

“I’m not your average noble.”

“Neither was Lord Durn,” Sharim said. “He didn’t
insist that his son study only proper fields.”

“So he could’ve shielded himself against scrying?”

“It’s still not proof. It could be anyone.”

“Who else has the power?”

Sharim let out a breath. “I’m not sure. I don’t know
for certain Lord Varin does.”

“But you think he does.”

Sharim paused and looked away. Jez cleared his throat,
and the apprentice met his eyes. He looked scared, but he nodded.

“Well, you were right about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Sharim asked.

“It pointed me in the right direction. I just have to
find some way to prove Varin is responsible.”

“There’s something you’re not considering, Baron.”