Agnith's Promise: The Vildecaz Talents, Book 3 (30 page)

Erianthee took her parchment and stuck it in the back of Ninianee’s belt, then she palmed the vial of ympara-oil and slowly eased a little of it onto her hands, then slipped it back into her sleeve.  This was a big risk, she thought, and began the rite to summon Hyneimoj, the Ineffable in her crag-lion form, knowing this goddess would be able to use Ninianee’s talent to protect them from Merinex.  She made a sound like stifled sobs so that Merinex wouldn’t be alerted to her efforts.

“If you’re going to do something to us, you might as well get it over with,” said Ninianee. 

“There’s no reason to spoil my enjoyment,” said Merinex, preening unabashedly.  “I’ve had to conceal my accomplishments for more than two decades, letting all of you think I was nothing more than an incompetent fool, a Court fixture capable of nothing but basic tricks and the occasional protection spell.  It’s pleasant to have an opportunity to let you know how much I’ve done without any of you having the least suspicion.”

Erianthee smothered a wail that had in it the portion of the rite that would bring the goddess from the Outer World to the Great World.  The summons was working, she knew it, and the coming manifestation was like a fever in her.  She blocked out all notice of Merinex, leaving him to Ninianee’s attentions.

“You deceived us all.”  Ninianee changed her posture to more completely conceal Erianthee from Merinex’s gaze.

“You can’t shield her from what I can do.  Flesh alone cannot withstand the powers I command,”  Merinex said, sneering.  “With my Priest-brothers, we ruined the Porzalk Empire.  The conjure-storm will cost them treasure and lives for years to come, and nothing Riast can do will change it.  So you, Duzeons, will not require more than a minor effort on my part.”

“And what are you going to do?”  Ninianee asked.

“I haven’t quite decided,” said Merinex with false playfulness.  “There are so many possibilities.”

Erianthee continued her silent summons, leaning a little against Ninianee’s back as much for concealment as for her protection.

Ninianee made an impatient little snort, doing her best to conceal her growing fear while striving to distract Merinex from what Erianthee was doing. “While you’re gloating, you might as well let us get warmer.  You’re freezing the room.  If we could move toward the fire?”

He pointed at her.  “You’ll stay where you are.  I’m not letting you start anything foolish.  You can’t stop me.  I have far more talent than you could ever guess, and more power than anyone could imagine.  You have talent and a little power, and that isn’t enough to interfere with what I’m planning.”  His voice was loud and snapped with disdain.  “You have to do what I order you to do,”

“Or what?”  Ninianee asked sarcastically, hearing her sister begin hushed invocation to Agnith, the Preternatural.  “Or you’ll do something dreadful to us?  Aren’t you going to do that already?”  She raised her chin.

“How bad it is and how long it lasts I haven’t decided.  Your insolence will only prolong your misery.”  He smiled nastily.  “It’s a shame your father can’t see you now.”

“Can’t, not couldn’t?”  Ninianee asked, hoping that Nimuar wasn’t wholly beyond finding.  As Merinex shook his finger at her, she began to lean away from him.  She felt Erianthee’s hand on the small of her back.  It wouldn’t be much longer.  She found her concentration drifting, and forced herself to goad Merinex again.  “So I assume you killed Hoftstan Ruch, didn’t you?”

He studied her.  “Does that bother you?  that I, your tame Castle magician, would rend your seneschal limb from limb and leave his head in place to watch?  He was astonished and in agony before I let him die.  At least he knew who killed him.”  This time his laugh grated.  “Or are you worried I’ll do the same to you?”  He paused and shook his head.  “No, I wouldn’t do that.  Not that I have any hesitation about killing you in any way that would please me.  In this case, it wouldn’t be prudent.  There would be too many questions asked, and I’m not ready for that.”  He paced along the bookcases again.  “I’ll make you imbeciles and that will be the end of it.  Everyone will say how sad it is that you suffered your father’s fate.”

“You must be certain we’ll die, or you wouldn’t be saying all this to us.”  Ninianee felt the parchment in her belt twitch, and the first uneasy stages of Changing come over her, this time not from the full moon, but from the arrival of Hyneimoj, the Ineffable, in the form of a crag-lion, who would make use of her for the goddess’ manifestation.  Being made of more ephemeral matter than flesh, the goddess could make Ninianee much larger than she was, and empower her with all the strength of the source of mammals.  Her body shivered and her gaunel tore as she transformed into the manifestation of the goddess, and Erianthee raised her arms to draw down the strength of Agnith, the Preternatural, with all the might of her talent to manifest such forces.

Heijot Merinex held up his hand-wand and began an incantation just as the crag-lion form of Hyneimoj reached him, penetrating his magical shield, physical enough to score his face with magical claws, striking with hard purpose to incapacitate him.  With a hideous shriek, he tried to break free of the crag-lion’s spectral claws, and fell backward, the beast landing on his chest, rending his clothes and leaving deep, bloody scoring in his chest.

Erianthee continued the conjuration, fighting against the overwhelming exhaustion that was steadily increasing within her, and slowly Ninianee returned to her own shape, prone on Merinex, who was now moaning and struggling to hold onto his consciousness.  “To Hyneimoj, the Ineffable, the honor of the Duzeons of Vildecaz is dedicated in acknowledgment for what use she has made of our talents.  To Agnith, the Preternatural, the talents of the Duzeons of Vildecaz are made excellent.”  Saying this last, she snatched a shining, diamond-folded parchment from the air before she collapsed on the floor.

Loud pounding on the door accompanied by shouts and the yelping of the spell-hounds brought Ninianee back to herself.  Looking down, she saw Heimot Merinex lying beneath her, his clothes shredded, his skin still oozing blood.  She stared at her own hands and saw them encarmined, her nails ragged, and wisps of filmy hair evaporating around her.  Her clothes were disheveled and blood-stained, and her hair was in frenzied disarray.  She got clumsily to her feet, her head throbbing, her skin feeling scalded, and staggered toward Erianthee, who lay, pale and hardly breathing, against the foot of the broad trestle-table.  She reached out to pull Erianthee to her feet in order to place her in a chair, and discovered she had marked her with blood.   “Eri.  Eri.  Wake up.  Please wake up.”

There were a series of loud bludgeons on the door, and the first crack of splintering wood.   Recalled to their circumstances, Ninianee maneuvered Erianthee into a chair and went to release the door, shouting as she did, “Put down your axe!”

The sound of her voice brought renewed shouts from outside.  Ninianee waited until some of the confusion abated, then opened the lock and operated the latch, letting the door swing open.  “Be careful,” she said as she caught sight of the four men on the landing.  “Heijot Merinex is unconscious now, but once he regains his senses he’ll be very dangerous, and he’ll need more than iron bars to contain him.”

“Are you all right?”  Doms asked as he shoved past Senijer ae-Miratdien.  “You’re bloody.”  He wanted to embrace her, but hesitated, wanting to be sure she was uninjured.

“Not my blood,” she said, nodding toward the supine form of Merinex.  “It’s his.”

“What clawed him?”  Doms asked, watching Ninianee narrowly.

At almost the same instant, “What happened to him?”  Ae-Miratdien asked, trying to hold the two scent-hounds on their leash.  Foluch put his head back and bayed.

Kloveon moved ae-Miratdien aside and hurried to Erianthee, catching her up in his arms.  “Not again.  Oh, no,”

Zhanf came to stand in the doorway.  “No, she won’t languish as she did before,”  he said, rather apologetically.  “I’m sorry it had to come to this.”  It was difficult to know to whom he was speaking, for his whole posture expressed chagrin.  “It should never have been left to the Duzeons.” 

“Do you mean you could have stopped it?”  Doms demanded, looking away from Ninianee for an instant.

Ninianee spoke before Zhanf could.  “It has always been our task  – Eri’s and mine.  Duz Nimuar is our father and Vildecaz is our home.  If we don’t defend it, what right have we to be here.”

“But your father asked me to come to guard Vildecaz.  He knew there was something malign gathering here, and that he hadn’t the power to stop it.”  Zhanf stared at Ninianee.  “I was charged with protecting you and the Duzky.  Surely you knew that I was expected to make sure you and Vildecaz were unharmed.”

Kloveon and ae-Miratdien stood very still for his answer  – even the spell-hounds were silent.

Then Erianthee opened her eyes.  “Nin’s right.  This was our struggle.”  She let herself sag a little more in Kloveon’s arms.  “We should have realized what Merinex was doing.  We saw him almost every day.  We should have known.”

Zhanf sighed.  “I don’t know how you could have.  As he intended, we were all distracted by the spell-mummies, and the constant failure of the outer wall, which he purported to want to help repair.  To give him credit, that was a very clever ruse he employed  – to put his servants in Cazboarth clothing and then have them be seen.  No, he certainly managed to camouflage his activities and to keep us searching for something that wasn’t there.  But I’m ashamed to say I didn’t look for the kind of cloaking-spells he has conjured all over the Castle.”

“But surely you noticed something,” Doms exclaimed.

Zhanf blinked, embarrassed to admit his failure.  “I could feel a muffling, but I thought that was the result of Duz Nimuar’s blasted talents, that the Castle held some of the same limitations.  I could sense something of his lack in his letters, and made the mistake of assuming that the cloaking-spells were the result of what I had already discerned.”  He came into the room and stood a few paces from Merinex.  “Loathsome man.  We will need to confine him, as much by magic as by enclosure.  He won’t be unconscious much longer, though I can prolong it a short while  – perhaps a third of an hour.  But we can’t give him any opportunity to conjure.  He could overwhelm us quickly and easily.  We’ll have to move him before he wakes, and for that I’ll need a shielding-spell and a captive’s box.”

“I can have one here in a quarter of an hour,” said ae-Miratdien.

“It should be sooner.  He must be secured before he wakes,” said Zhanf.

“Then do it,” Ninianee said, “Now,” feeling more exhausted than she had when she had crawled out of the River Dej.

Kloveon, who had been holding Erianthee close against him, stroking her arms and her back with steady intent, now fixed his eyes on Zhanf.  “You’re supposed to be a Magsto of great knowledge and power.  How could you fail to see what was going on here?”

“Because the clouding overtook me,” Zhanf admitted.   He motioned to ae-Miratdien, who was still stunned by what he had witnessed.  “Hand me the leashes, and go get the captive box.  We mustn’t linger her much longer, not with a Magstogorin of the Night Priests of Ayon-Tur injured but hardly incapacitated here and able to blast us all.  I can put a spell on him for a short while, but he is sly and powerful, and I can’t assume that my spell can hold him if he regains consciousness before he’s properly confined.”

Ae-Miratdien, at last prepared to act, put the spell-hounds leashes into Zhanf’s hand, glancing down at Merinex.  “I still can’t believe he’s been the one all along.”

“Which is precisely what he intended you to believe,” said Zhanf.  “You confirm his success.  Now go.”

Ae-Miratdien gave a tight nod, respected Zhanf, then offered a second respect to the rest.  “I’ll be back, in ten minutes, and I’ll bring more Night Guards with me.  Ten minutes.” He rushed from the room, the sound of his boots echoing loudly in the stairwell.

“What do we need to do until he returns?”  Doms asked.  “And don’t attempt to make light of the situation.”

“Why should I make light of this?  Here is an admitted Night Priest of Ayon-Tur who says his Order is active again, and who, with his brothers, has brought the Porzalk Empire to ruin.”  Zhanf went over to Erianthee.  “You saw the conjure-storm yourself.  You must know if there’s anything to fear from him now.”

“I don’t know,” said Erianthee.  “But that’s my shortsightedness, not his.  I recommend finding some way to hold him captive until we can learn the extent of the activities of the Night Priests.”

“And the gouges on his chest  – what power caused them?”  Zhanf asked.

“Hyneimoj, the Ineffable, and my talent with animals,” said Ninianee.  “Without Erianthee, I couldn’t have done anything.  No doubt I’d be dead by now.”

“And I couldn’t have conjured anything more constraining than a substanceless manifestation, one that he could have dismissed with nothing more than a gesture,” said Erianthee, then looked up at Kloveon.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t include you, but I knew you wouldn’t want me to undertake another godly manifestation so soon after . . . what happened before.”

“You’re right,” said Kloveon.  “But this is the bravest thing you’ve ever done.”  He drew her tightly to him, his lips on her forehead, as if to assure himself that she was truly there.

Doms’ silence was beginning to worry Ninianee, who faced him, saying, “All right.  Tell me you’re disappointed, or annoyed, or angry.”