Knights Magi (Book 4) (18 page)

“That
could
just mean you’re cleverer than you look,” Tyndal said, helpfully. 

“Hey!”
Estasia protested again.  “If I
wanted
your stupid stone, I’m sure I would have had other ways to get it than to climb through your window!”

“Is that a flirtation, milady?” Tyndal asked.  Estasia’s face darkened.

“That’s
enough
, you two,” Rondal said, disgusted.  “Let’s save our energies for the problem at hand.  We’re going to need them.  Every moment we waste puts that stone further out of reach.”

“Agreed,” Tyndal said.  Then he thought of something.  “Estasia, just why
are
you helping us?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, suspiciously. 

“I mean, why devote your time to this, when you’re just making yourself a bigger suspect by your interest?”

He expected an outburst, but instead got a curt nod.  “I can see your point.  All right, let’s just say that I’ve been here two years now, and I’m bored to tears.  Tracking down a lost—”

“
Stolen!
” Tyndal reminded her.

“—
stolen
witchstone is actually a practical challenge.  A lot different than slashing my way through theory or working in tubes and jars in a laboratory.  Besides,” she said, her blush returning, “I know the political tides are turning, and it’s raising both of your ships.  I figure if you knew my name and my face, it might prove beneficial in the future.”

“We’ve been hounded for less reason,” Tyndal said.  “Back in Castabriel during the Coronation there were these—”

“Every
moment we waste!” Rondal reminded them sharply.  “I’m going to assume Estasia isn’t either of our criminals, because . . . well, because I just do, and she’s proven an asset in the search,” he said, hurriedly.  “Besides, if she is one of them, then being close to her will help trip her up and reveal herself.”

“Oh, thank you, Sir Knight,” the alchemist said, curtsying sarcastically.

“To continue, we have to find out two things: who the thief is, and where the witchstone is.  The thief can lead us to the confederate – I hope – and the confederate can lead us to the witchstone.  So let us find the thief.”

“Yes, let’s,” Tyndal grumbled.  “Only we’ve been searching for hours, and we have little sign on the trail.  Where do we go from here?”

There was a pregnant silence in the tower chamber as the three thought furiously.  It stretched and stretched long beyond the point of comfortabilty.  Several times the glimmer of an ideal would – almost – compel someone to speak, but as time wound on, nothing sprang to mind.

“I’m beat,” Tyndal finally admitted.  “I feel lost without my stone, but my body just can’t keep my mind thinking anymore.”

“We’ve been up for thirty hours or more,” agreed Rondal with a yawn.  “If we’re going to think properly, we’re going to need to rest.  I’ll set the wards,” he offered.

Estasia smiled apologetically.  “I was hoping I could think of something, but . . . not without alerting everyone to the theft.  Maybe I’ll dream up something tonight.”

“I’d offer to help,” Tyndal teased, “but I’m just not up to it.”

“I don’t need your help,” she assured.  “Just get some sleep.  We’ll think of something.  And if we don’t . . .”

“If we don’t,” finished Rondal, “I’m going to have to call our master . . . and I don’t think anyone wants
that
to happen.”

*
                            *                            *

“The question becomes,” Rondal said as they walked to lunch, “how do we flush out this thief when he has no memory of stealing?”

“He couldn’t have been an unwilling dupe,” pointed out Tyndal, who had been disappointed the dawn had brought no further insight into his problem.  “He had to have known enough magic and had enough ambition to make the attempt.”

“Or he was coerced into it,” Rondal observed.  “His help could have been extorted.”

“I don’t think he was,” Tyndal said.  “No good reason – I don’t know, he seemed kind of . . . eager.  And he was definitely triumphant when he left.”

“You got that with him in the dark?  Paralyzed?  In a mask?  Cloaked by shadowmagic?”

“I can be a pretty subtle guy,” Tyndal bragged.

“All right, assume he was a willing accomplice,” conceded Rondal, “why would you take that kind of risk and then just . . . forget about it?”

“Apart from the obvious advantages?  You wouldn’t.  Maybe that drug’s effect was meant to be temporary.  Maybe the accomplice will alert the thief to what he did after the fact—”

“Would you?” asked Rondal.

“Uh . . . no,” admitted Tyndal.  “Assuming I’m a murderous cutthroat who wanted a witchstone, no, I’d never let the idiot I got to steal it for me remember if I’d gone to all the trouble to make him forget.”

“Exactly,” sighed Rondal, as they passed by a work crew hauling the cart that emptied the garderobes and chamberpots – it was not one of the better student jobs, and usually given out as a severe punishment.  To their surprise, Stanal of Arcwyn and Kaffin of Gyre, his sparring comrades from the yard, were the ones pushing the cart.

“Trygg’s cramps, Who did
you
piss off?” asked Tyndal, partially amused by and partially sympathetic to the boys’ plight.

“Mistress Selvedine didn’t like a comment I made about . . . a classmate,” Stanal said, blushing.  “She thought some time pushing the honey cart might make me more respectful.”

“Must have been some comment,” whistled Rondal.  “And you?”

“I failed an exam,” Kaffin said, miserably.  “Thaumaturgic Theory. 
Utterly
failed it.  I got
one question
out of thirty correct.  It was like it just went in my eyes and leaked back out again.”  He shook his head.  “So I get to do
this
, instead of studying.  Master Secul reamed me out –
verbally
,” he clarified, “and then decided I wasn’t taking my studies seriously enough.  This experience is supposed to help focus my attention”  He made a face.

“Ouch,” Tyndal winced.  “I’m suddenly terribly glad I’m an apprentice, and not a student.”

“You should be,” Stanal nodded.  “See you at the yard, later?”

“I’m . . . working on a special project,” Tyndal said, reluctantly.  “I might not be there.”

Stanal looked disappointed.  “Damn.  You’re the only one around here who can challenge me, apart from the guards . . . and Kaf.”

“Challenge you?  I kick your ass three times out of four!” the son of a seaknight boasted.  Kain was, Tyndal had to admit, the better swordsman of the two.  But he he could never say so.

“I don’t think either one of you should be bragging much,” Tyndal confided, quietly.  “You’re both decent fighters, but . . . well, you need seasoning.  It’s clear you’ve never fought for your life –
really
fought for your life before.”

Stanal looked pale.  “I’d rather not, if I could help it.  I just like swordplay.”

“And I’ve never fought for my life,” Kaffin pointed out, “but when I do, I want to know what I’m doing.”

“Then keep practicing,” assured Tyndal.  “Besides, with a war on, you never know when knowing how to fight will come in handy.  And you’re more fun to beat up than Rondal, here.”The boys both made faces, but they nodded and pushed on, their cart sloshing evilly as they moved it.

“Gods, I’d rather suffer one of Master Min’s lectures!” Tyndal said, shaking his head as the stinking cart rolled by.

“With Garky I only had one chamberpot to empty,” agreed Rondal.  “And a junior apprentice to delegate that to.  I’m starting to see the advantages of our situation.” 

Just then a door opened allowing six or seven female students to stream out toward the dining hall after noon service in the chapel, carefully avoiding Kaffin and Stanal’s wagon as it lurched across the campus.  The boys stopped and allowed them to go ahead of them.

“On the other hand, there are some unique advantages to student life, too,” Rondal observed, watching the giggling mass of young femininity pass by, leaving a perfumed cloud in their wake.

“I see your point,” Tyndal said, then shook his head to clear his mind.  “And here I thought you were considering celibate holy orders . . .”

“Look, I am a little shy,” Rondal said, annoyed, “that doesn’t mean I’m uninterested!  When Ishi decides the time is right—”

“If you wait around for divine intervention to find you a woman,” snorted Tyndal, “you’re wasting your time.  Ishi doesn’t tie our hearts together just because she fancies it.  You have to go out there and make yourself vulnerable with a girl,” he counseled.  “Really
connect
with her.”

“I thought I was
doing
that with Estasia,” his fellow apprentice said through clenched teeth.  “But she seems strangely distracted . . .”

“Let’s get back to my . . . problem,” Tyndal said, quietly, realizing he was getting distracted.  “Two accomplices, and they haven’t left the area with it yet.  How do we draw them out?”

“They’ve got what they want,” grumbled Tyndal.  “All they have to do is not get caught.”

“If Master Minalan comes here to search, they’re not going to get away with it.  They have to realize that.”

“They need to not get away with it
before
he comes,” Tyndal complained.  “I can’t believe I lost my stone!  I—”

“Hey!” called a familiar female voice from the line into the Dining Hall, ahead.  “You two mage knights!”  Estasia broke through the crowd, a book in her hand.  Her mantle was thrown back, and her shapely form distracted him pleasantly for a moment.  “I think I have the answer.” 

“Answer to what?” Rondal asked.

“The answer to the question of which of the two of you is the dimmer,” she said, sarcastically.  “But what I really have the answer to is your problem.”

“You do?” Tyndal asked, skeptically.

“Believe it or not, I do!” she said, excitedly.  “Do you have a moment?”

Rondal looked at the large line in front of the Dining Hall, and how slowly it moved.  “It appears we have several,” he nodded.  “What do you have?”

“Before I show you,” she said, biting her lip, “let me tell you how I arrived at the solution.  Firstly, why can’t you scry for the stone?”

“Because someone is cloaking it,” Tyndal answered.  Rondal nodded.

“Exactly,” the alchemist nodded, eagerly.  “So . . . what would you see if you looked for it?”

“Nothing,” Rondal said, confused.  “Why?”

“So what happens if you light up the
area
with magic?” she asked.  “Like . . . like . . . imagine if we made it rain.  Rain
magic.
”

“O-kay,” agreed Tyndal, slowly.  “It’s raining magic.  Now what?”

“If it is, indeed, raining magic – that is, we cast spells or sigils or whatever all over the campus, we should be able to scry out pretty much everything—”

“Except for the places that are cloaked!”
Rondal agreed, excitedly.  “Oh, sweet Briga’s bum, that’s brilliant!  That’s what we did when we were looking for that tree in Alshar, remember Tyn?  We look for what
isn’t
there, not what
is!
”

“That . . . that might work,” conceded Tyndal, who was hardening his heart against the idea that he’d lost his stone. 

“It
will
work,” she declared.  “I’m so sure, I even looked up the right spell for it,” she said, shoving her book under their noses.  “It’s a little obscure, and about as useless as . . . nipples on a man,” she giggled, “but I found it!”

The boys both read the spell, a mere three or four pages worth.  It was surprisingly simple, if one had the power for it.  A mage, it declared, could fill a space half a rod in diameter with low-level power, should he need to, with the spell. 

“We can’t search this place one half-rod at a time,” Tyndal said, discouraged.

“We don’t have to,” corrected Estasia.  “With Rondal’s stone, he would have the power so that he could conceivably fill every part of the campus at once.  Then one of us does the scrying while he’s working . . .”

“And my stone shows up because of what’s
not
there,” Tyndal concluded.  “All right, what do we need?”

“Some time, some quiet space, and . . . well, a map of campus.”

“We can find all of that in the Manciple’s Library, after closing hour,” Tyndal suggested.”

“Tonight after classes, then,” Rondal decided.  “Meet us up there.  How long will it take to cast the spell?”

“For me?  Three or four hours.  For you?  Unknown,” she conceded.  “But it takes about an hour to fade into effect, and then it only lasts about fifteen minutes.”

“That doesn’t give us very much time,” Tyndal frowned.

“That gives us plenty of time . . . if we’re prepared,” pointed out Estasia.  “I’ll scry while Rondal does the summoning.  You can mark spots on the map, and then . . . “