Dangerous Waters (23 page)

‘Let me—’ The lady wizard reached out to save her.

‘I knew you lied about something!’ Lady Zurenne sprang away, fending her off. Then she went on the attack, one hand raised to slap Jilseth. At the last, Zurenne’s nerve failed. She hugged her clenched fists to her breast.

‘Time and again, you have lied to me!’ she screamed at the grey-gowned woman. ‘He was a wizard? Invading my home, threatening my daughters? One of your own and you did nothing? Worse than nothing! How could you?’

‘We did not — I have not lied.’ The lady wizard stood her ground, just barely.

‘Truly?’ Zurenne demanded, suddenly icy with contempt. ‘You say you don’t know where he is? Why should I believe you?’

Now she was shaking. Corrain couldn’t tell if that was from wrath or fear.

The lady wizard was gathering up her papers, closing the books lying on the table. ‘Granted, my lady, I have not told the whole truth. I will ask your forgiveness for that. Though I could not. I do the Archmage’s bidding first and foremost.’

‘You won’t get my pardon, now or ever,’ Zurenne snarled. ‘Nor will your Archmage. His name will be spat upon across Caladhria once this tale is known.’

‘You must talk to the Archmage. Let him explain.’ To Corrain’s vengeful satisfaction, she couldn’t look Zurenne in the eye.

‘The Archmage can give us Minelas.’ Corrain stepped forward.

‘To hang for his crimes,’ spat Zurenne.

‘I—’ Whatever the lady wizard might have said was lost as she disappeared in a blinding flash of white light.

Zurenne screamed and screamed again, incoherent with rage and grief. Fitrel charged into the hall, the rest of the ragged guards at his heels. They fanned out, searching the shadows, shouting angrily to each other. Kusint went to explain what had happened to Fitrel and to fat Captain Arigo puffing after the rest of his men.

Corrain stood looking up at the high table. He had seen a candle flicker before the lady wizard had vanished. Her hand had shaken as she’d picked up a parchment. See such a tell-tale in a swordfight and a warrior knew he had the upper hand.

Yes, these wizards would pay.

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

Halferan, Caladhria

40th of Aft-Spring

‘M
Y LADY, OH
my lady. Please sit down. Please drink some of this.’

It was her new maid, Zurenne realised, beseeching her through the uproar that filled the great hall. Raselle was plucking at her sleeve, offering a goblet of wine in her shaking hand.

Down on the floor of the hall, Master Rauffe and Captain Arigo were standing toe to toe, shouting at each other. Mistress Rauffe was trying to listen at the same time as darting back and forth to rebuke the household’s maids.

The women were largely ignoring the steward’s wife, skirting around the tables and benches to demand explanations of the troopers. Who were these newcomers? What crisis threatened? Were there tidings of corsair raids out on the coast?

Whatever explanations the red-headed youth could offer were only compounding the confusion. Corrain was standing motionless, his face empty of emotion. He might have been deaf and mute for all the heed he took of those clustered around him, demanding answers.

Up the stairs in the baronial quarters, Zurenne could hear Esnina wailing, drowning out her nursemaid’s efforts to soothe her.

‘Mama?’

Zurenne spun around to see Ilysh in the doorway to the stairs. ‘Go back to your room!’

Something in her tone cut through all the commotion like a hot wire through wax. Shocked silence echoed from the dais to the doorway and up to the banner-hung rafters. All eyes turned to Zurenne.

Unable to bear their scrutiny, she took the goblet from Raselle and drank deep. A fit of coughing nearly brought her to her knees. The wine had been fortified with what tasted like half a bottle of white brandy.

As she allowed the maid to help her to a nearby chair, Zurenne dimly realised Master Rauffe and his wife were clearing everyone out of the great hall. So the pair of them had some uses.

‘My lady?’

Blinking away tears prompted by the coughing, Zurenne looked down to see Corrain still standing before the dais. She waited for him to continue but he only gazed helplessly up at her. Then he started forward, his hand going to his hip for a non-existent sword hilt.

‘My lady Halferan.’ A courteous voice spoke behind her.

‘Who are you?’ Ilysh was in the doorway to the stairs.

Zurenne twisted awkwardly in the chair. ‘Who—’

She saw Jilseth had returned with an older man. Older than Halferan would have been, had he lived. Not as old as Lord Licanin. Or was he? Zurenne looked again and saw fine creases at the corners of the man’s grey eyes, his hairline receding though there was barely any silver in his close cropped black hair and beard. Lean-faced, his wiry build was emphasised by his plain black doublet and breeches. He could have been a merchant’s clerk from Trebin or Ferl.

‘Lady Halferan.’ His smile softened the intensity of his expression, before his next words stripped away any such reassurance. ‘I am Planir, Archmage of Hadrumal.’ He bowed to her and then to Ilysh. The girl clapped her hands to her mouth, eyes wide with wonder.

Zurenne gripped the goblet so tightly she feared the glazed ceramic would crack. She fought to set it on the table without spilling the contents, before accusing Jilseth. ‘You said a wizard can only go where he’s been before!’

Why had she said that? Because it was the first thought that came into her head. Zurenne nearly reached for the goblet to hide her confusion in it. But her head was already spinning from the liquor, the shock or both.

The Archmage was answering as if her question were perfectly reasonable. ‘It’s possible in theory, for those with supreme proficiency in their scrying spells as well as confidence in their other abilities, to travel somewhere they have never been. However, over the generations, there have been far too many instances where an apprentice wizard’s self-belief has led to disaster.’

Planir shook his head, rueful. ‘Consequently, translocation through scrying is so thoroughly discouraged that it is effectively forbidden.’

‘But not to the Archmage,’ Corrain challenged.

‘I am also the Stone Master. If my scrying erred—’ Planir gestured as though the hall masonry wasn’t there ‘—if I found myself in the midst of your outer wall for example, my command over stone and earth would allow me to walk through the brickwork into the open air. Most people would be so impressed, they wouldn’t realise I’d made a mistake.’

Zurenne thought she saw a warning buried in Planir’s smile, like the blade concealed within a swordstick.

He shrugged. ‘I had no need to run such a risk. Jilseth’s magic brought me here.’

Once again, the shock or the liquor prompted Zurenne to speak, where she should have kept silent. ‘I wish I could say you are welcome, but that would be a lie to dishonour Ostrin.’

‘I am pleased to be here nonetheless.’ Planir inclined his head politely, to her and, once again, to Ilysh.

Zurenne caught her daughter’s eye. ‘Go to bed. Now.’

Ilysh hesitated then fled. Zurenne was relieved to hear the door to the upper hallway close on Esnina’s shrieking.

‘My lady, may I sit?’ Planir made no move to take a chair without her permission.

Zurenne didn’t know what to say. She settled for a curt nod. As the wizard sat, she turned to Corrain, still down on the floor of the hall before the dais. ‘You, come up here.’

Like the Archmage, she sat in silence as he made his way up the steps at the far corner. Corrain made no move to sit when he approached the table. Nor did Jilseth, remaining in the spot where her magic had brought her back to Halferan.

Zurenne wondered if she should send word to Lord Licanin. But Lord Licanin couldn’t get a reply to her any faster than a horseman could carry it. Halferan still had no birds to carry messages back to the barony. So Licanin would only learn of this unforeseen visit in the same message that told him of its outcome. And announced Corrain’s return and the revelations he had brought with him.

Zurenne looked at the far end of the dais. Her husband’s chair stood there, vast, ornate with its carved wooden canopy. It was shrouded with an embroidered mourning pall which had grown dull with dust thanks to Starrid’s neglect. One of the first things Mistress Rauffe had done was to set maidservants to work with dusters and beeswax and have them beat the heavy velvet clean.

It was the baron’s formal seat where her husband had sat to hold his courts and to deliver his judgements like his sire and grandsire before him. Tangible embodiment of his hereditary rights over this barony and the lives and deaths of those dwelling within its boundaries.

She turned to the Archmage. ‘This man is one of my husband’s chosen guard. He says that my husband asked for magic’s aid against the corsairs.’

Zurenne had always known that Halferan took his duties seriously. She would never have guessed that he had been driven to such extremes.

The Archmage nodded. ‘Your husband and others since, most recently the deputation to Hadrumal that included Lord Licanin, when he told us of Minelas’s treachery.’

Zurenne guessed that explained the lady wizard’s arrival, so curious about what Minelas had done and said. She wondered what else had gone on at that meeting. Which other barons had been present? Was there any point in asking Lord Licanin? He would only tell her what he judged she needed to know and that would be very little.

Zurenne clasped her hands in her lap. As she looked down, she saw her white knuckles betray her anxiety. ‘Do you have any news of Master Minelas?’

Planir nodded. ‘You may rest easy, my lady. He is dead.’

‘Dead?’

Before Zurenne could exclaim, the guardsman Corrain took a long stride from his place by the end of the table.

‘How did he die? When? Are you certain? Tell me!’

To Zurenne’s surprise, Jilseth stepped forward, her voice ringing through the empty hall. ‘He died hard and painfully, caught in the very act of misusing his magic.’

‘Where’s his body?’ the guardsman raged.

Planir gave no sign that he’d heard, still addressing Zurenne. ‘Minelas left here intent on yet more grievous treachery in his search for wealth and gratification. He was pursued in accordance with my oath as Archmage. He paid in blood and agony for his crimes in this life and you may trust that Poldrion’s demons torment him now.’

‘Where is his body?’ Corrain was advancing, his face twisted with anger. He halted, his expression slackening with fear.

Zurenne saw Jilseth’s raised hand stop him in his tracks. A chill of unease sent a shiver down the noblewoman’s back. She raised her chin, squaring her shoulders.

‘When did Master Minelas die?’

Planir’s slate-grey gaze didn’t waver. ‘Last year, towards the end of Aft-Autumn. My lady—’

‘Last year?’ Zurenne was too astonished to continue. Overwhelming relief swept through her. After so many seasons of misery, oppressed by constant dread, she need never fear the villain’s footfall on the stairs again. Then sheer fury overcame her, shattering every lifelong habit of caution and propelling her to her feet.

‘Last year? Yet all this time I have been left friendless and helpless? I have been subject to abuse and humiliation from ruffians and traitors to my husband’s memory! I have been beset by direst fears and doubts, for myself and for my innocent children! And all this while you knew that my tormentor was dead? Did you never think to tell me?’

‘We had no notion what he had done here,’ Planir offered sincere regret. ‘If I had known—’

‘If you knew?’ Zurenne swept his apology aside with the goblet. It flew off the table, toppling through the air before smashing into shards on the floor. ‘Yet you didn’t.’ She teetered between contempt and disbelief. ‘So much for your oath as Archmage.’

Planir didn’t respond, simply sitting and looking calmly at her.

‘Where is his body?’ Zurenne repeated the guardsman’s question, gesturing at Corrain as she did so. ‘I have learned not to believe that a man is dead unless I see his pyre. How can you be so certain that Master Minelas is dead? Your very presence here proves how easily wizards can slip from place to place.’