Enchanter (Book 7) (21 page)

There was a collective gasp.  No one expected that news, particularly her cousin.  Planus sat there, his mouth agape, his Imperial mustache twitching in astonishment.

“Penny? 
Resigned?
  After marrying that . . .
barbarian?”

“Hey!” I said, defensively.

“He’s a very
nice
barbarian,” Planus assured, “far better than my cousin deserves.  But my uncle is going to have a
stroke
when he hears . . .”

“It was a strategic decision,” I explained.  “The Arcane Orders are well-enough organized, now, and in truth we have need of her talents elsewhere – in Alshar, specifically.  As Ducal Court Wizard for Anguin she can not only use her powers to help rebuild his realm, but she can act as a representative for our interests with him.  And they are, I remind you, considerable.”

“So you propose to build up Anguin as a puppet state,” reasoned Planus.  “Shrewd.”

“Less a puppet state and more a state closely aligned with our interests,” I corrected him.  “I don’t want more lands or even more power.  I just want the power to protect what we have and what we might build.  Penny will be doing that for us in Vorone.  With our help.  The Arcane Orders have quietly pledged loan guarantees for Anguin through the Temple of Ifnia, and other temples, to give him the funds he needs to rekindle his rule.  Astyral and Azar have pledged their troops to him, if he needs them to enforce his rule.  With money, advice, magic and troops, that will give him a far better chance to re-establish Alshar as a viable state without being beholden to the Castali.”

“But he’ll be beholden to us, instead,” Andalnam nodded, approvingly.

“That’s the idea.  But if the Royal House starts thinking that he actually has a chance to rebuild Alshar, they’ll move to stop him, one way or another.  They are not in the mood to continence rivals, at the moment.   And they have a history of meddling with Alshari politics.”

“Pentandra is going to need a lot of support,” Dranus noted.  “How are we going to do that?”

‘Quietly.  She’ll let us know what she needs, when she needs it.  We’ll get it for her.  Hopefully by spring Anguin will have Vorone clearly under his power and can expand to call his barons to swear fealty.  One they can start providing him troops they can start rebuilding the infrastructure – again, with our help. By next summer, when the news of Anguin’s arrival breaks and sinks in, hopefully he’ll be far too well-established to be overthrown by anyone.”

“Meddling in Ducal politics is dangerous, Minalan,” Dranus said, shaking his head.

“But it is a lot of fun,’ countered Planus.  “And the opportunities for building something lasting for magefolk out in that desolation are promising.’

“It’s not a desolation!  It’s a wilderness!” Rael countered.  “And one now depopulated.  Most of the Wilderlords fled or were killed in the war.  “It’s not farmland, but its beautiful territory, lush with natural resources.”

“And goblins,” reminded Taren.  “Lots of goblins.  They may have receded into the Penumbra, but there are still plenty of them lurking around.  Which gives us a good reason to be there.  And a reason for the Orphan Duke to need us there. ”

“As I said,” shrugged Planus, “An opportunity for us.  I trust Minalan to handle the details as he has adeptly done everything else.  And the idea of using enchantment as a means of projecting power is intriguing.  But I don’t quite see the details . . .”

“We’re going to start making items of power to equip the magelords of the Penumbra.  We’re going to gift each of them a baculus like Pentandra’s, suited to their needs.  We’re going to continue to hone the defenses of Alshar against the Penumbra, as His Majesty has permitted, and we’re going to seed the area with loyal magi who will also support Anguin’s regime.  By the time anyone notices what we’re doing, hopefully we’ll be too strong for anyone to uproot.”

“And you plan on doing this with a bunch of magic sticks?” Rael asked, coolly. 

“They’re really
good
magic sticks,” Taren said, defensively.  “With Pentandra’ baculus as a pattern, I think we can create some truly amazing pieces.  The kind that can destroy whole armies and that sort of thing.  If we throw a bunch of those around the Penumbra, no one on either side of the magelands will be eager to tangle with us.”

“And with Anguin a strong voice in kingdom affairs, under the charter, we have influence politically, as well as arcanely,” I finished.  “And yes, there are a lot of details missing.  We’ll fill them in as circumstances dictate.  But for the time being, this little conspiracy,” I said, including them all with the stem of my pipe, “is merely a distinguished body of scholars investigating the mysteries of enchantment, minding our own business up here in the magical mountain.”

“And you really think anyone is going to believe that?” Dranus asked, amused.

“I’m hoping that the Court will be too distracted by other events to pay attention, much,” I admitted.  “And if I can avoid any more seven hundred mile hikes across ducal frontiers, and resign myself to making fireworks at state occasions for a while, that’s all anyone will be able to prove.”

That night I retired to our hall with a feeling of satisfaction.  Talking over the details of my enchantment ideas with my colleagues had been good.  I was almost ready to reveal the secret of the Snowflake to some of them . . . though after recent events I figured I would avoid the place for a while.  I had plenty to do until the Karshak opened up the spaces near the thing I’d requested.  Eventually we’d move the serious enchantment laboratories down there. 

Until then there was plenty of other things to do.  But I took a moment to go out to the observation deck and drink one final glass of wine and appreciate all of what I had gotten accomplished.  The Fair was over.  I’d managed to learn about the Censorate.  Winter preparations were nearly done, the harvest was in, and we had real bread now. 

Alya was still awake, though the children were in bed.  She looked at me from the doorway for a few moments, then came in and poured herself a glass of wine before joining me.

“It’s good to have you back home,” she sighed.  “We missed you.  And it’s good to see you working . . .” she trailed off, realizing how it sounded.

I chuckled.  “I know, what I did this summer
was
work.  Fieldwork.  But now it’s time to go back into the tower and put what I learned to use.  Laboratory work.  You saw all the marvels at the fair.  That’s just the beginning, Alya,” I promised.  “Within a few weeks I’ll have the best enchanters in the kingdom here, helping me build a whole new class of enchantments.”

“At least you’ll be home,” she smiled.

“Well, yes, but this is a different kind of work,” I said.  “I might not be gone, but I won’t exactly be here. And when I am I’ll be reading, talking, writing, planning, plotting, scheming . . .”

“At least you’ll be
home
,” she repeated, more seriously.  “That means a lot.  I’ll feel like a real spellmonger’s wife, maybe.  And you can take over some of the crappy baronial jobs,” she added.  “It would be nice if Cei and Estret could get back to their lands before the war starts.”

“The war?” I asked, confused.

“Maybe you were paying more attention to magic than the mundane at the fair, but the gossip about Sendaria was pretty clear.  Arathanial is going to go to war with Sashtalia this coming spring.  He isn’t formally asking Sevendor for an alliance, but there’s no way we cannot be involved.”

“Oh, yeah,” I sighed.  “
That
war.”

“And Sire Cei is going to fight in it,” she reminded me.  “He’s hired some lads to make up his lances and will be practicing all winter long.”

“When warriors prepare, it’s called ‘training’, not ‘practicing’,” I said with a smirk.  “But I’ll do my best not to get us involved, militarily.  Of course we’ll help out in other ways – Arathanial is a friend, after all.  It will be interesting to observe a war I’m not involved in, for a change.”

“Do you not want to be involved in it?” she asked, surprised by my tone, I suppose.

“Sashtalia has done us no real harm, since the Warbird fell,” I reasoned.  “But Arathanial does seem determined to recover his family’s lost lands.  I suppose we could be horribly opportunistic and fish in those troubled waters.  We might pick up a few additional domains. Do we
want
a few additional domains?” I asked surprised.  Alya was trying to lead me somewhere subtly, but I wasn’t certain where.

“It would be awfully convenient if our people didn’t have to pay tolls along the route to Caolan’s Pass,” she pointed out.  “And it occurs to me that the pass itself would be easier to defend if we owned the land on the other side of it.  Let’s face it: the farther away from Sevendor our borders get, the more secure we are.  Being a baroness can be unpleasant,” she said philosophically, as she took my pipe from me and took a drag, “but as a mother, the power and the land and such bring me a certain feeling of security I find I enjoy.”

I chuckled.  “You’re talking more like a proper Riverlands noblewoman and less like a Wilderlands goodwife every day,” I teased.  “I think we need more responsibilities like we need prehensile toes, but if Arathanial is determined to re-make the local politics, it really wouldn’t be prudent of us not to make the best advantage of it.  Especially if we can figure out which domains we might want to pick up, and which are more trouble than their worth.”

“Estret has rubbed off on me,” she admitted.  “She’s a dear friend, and she’s worried about Cei, as silly as that sounds.  The man who faced down a dragon, and she’s worried he’s going to get hurt in what’s going to be essentially a glorified tournament.  But I suppose a man can die in a tournament just as easily as in war.”

“We can reduce that chance, if we help Arathanial quietly,” I observed. “Sending troops would be too much – besides, I think he’s well equipped with them, now that he’s integrated his new lands into his barony.  But we can feed him intelligence, perhaps provide some quiet magical support . . . has he hired a magical corps?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” she admitted.  “But then he just hired a Court Wizard.  Hiring Dranus made them fashionable again, apparently.”

“Maybe we can help him, along those lines,” I considered. “But that’s next spring. We have a long, cozy, productive winter ahead of us in this delightful new hall, with no enemies looming on our horizon.  Let’s make the most of it.”

We went to bed, after that, but we didn’t make love.  We were both tired, and in truth I still felt guilty and ashamed of what happened in the mountain.  But as the new thaumaturgical terms I was learning overcame my emotions, I fell asleep realizing that if I was going to move the Bouleuterion along I was going to have to compile a useful index of such terms as we went, to aid in future enchantments.

Just the kind of pleasant academic make-work that can distract you from the sick feeling you carry constantly in the pit of your stomach.

Chapter Ten

The Cenacles Of Sevendor

Banamor converted the warehouse space to a working arcane manufactory in less than a week.  His assistant, Gareth, was put in charge of the task, and he found tables and benches, chairs and stools to equip the site and then stocked it with enchantment supplies from Banamor’s impressive inventory.  I went to the Enchanter’s Guild with Rael and told the dozen or so magi what we were interested in doing.  We got an enthusiastic response.  Most of those magi were desperate to get their hands on irionite, any way that they could.  To get to use it and get paid for doing so seemed like an amazing opportunity.

The three small stones I chose from my stockpile lesser stones culled from the Censorate’s vaults.  They seemed almost trite, compared to what I was used to, but they were sufficient for the task at hand.  I had each mounted in a heavy snowflake-shaped snowstone block the size of a pie plate – something too large to fit in someone’s pockets.

The stones were spellbound to the rock three different ways, and each was enchanted with several location spells.  To ensure security even more, instead of transferring them back and forth from the castle I simple enchanted a fourth piece of snowstone, about thrice as large as the snowflakes, with three pockets (or
hoxters,
as I’d learned they were called) that the attendant alone knew the command to.