Legacy of Kings (10 page)

“She used it to call me to her in Corialanus,” Colivar responded. “And I did not replace it. So yes, that much is true.”

“Is there anyone else for whom that is the case?”

Colivar hesitated. “Fadir was summoned the same day that I was, so his token was also destroyed. I don’t know if he ever replaced it. Or how many other Magisters she might also have summoned the same day, who chose not to respond. But matters with Siderea went downhill very quickly after that; I would be surprised if any Magister would have been willing to give her a new token once he saw what was happening to her.”

Lazaroth nodded. “So five of us know for a fact that we are free of her influence. How many others can say the same?”

Colivar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The tokens you speak of are destroyed by even the most casual use. The owner’s trace is tenuous at best, and will not support a spell of any significance. Such items would not have been given to a morati if they had any real power.”

“I credit you with believing that,” Lazaroth said coldly, “though I am sure you would tell me the same story even if you didn’t. That said, I also credit Queen Siderea with being intelligent enough to know how to leverage those bits of power to greatest effect.”

“Without doubt,” Ramirus muttered.

“A man’s purpose can be swayed by a single dream, his plans undermined by a single well-placed doubt. The men who gave her tokens were her lovers, her companions, her advisers—which means that she knows them as well as any morati can. Are you going to tell me now, with absolute certainty, that she would not know how to conjure such a dream, or insert such a doubt? Or that such tokens could not help her target Magisters with an even greater act of witchery, by circumventing their normal defenses?”

For a moment Colivar said nothing. Even the thoughts in his head were still. “No,” he said at last. “I can’t tell you that.”

Lazaroth leaned back in the chair, his expression darkly triumphant. “From what I hear, her ex-lovers are scouring the world to figure out where she has gone. They want their toys back. Yet it seems that no sorcery can find her. Nor can it locate the Souleaters. Three dozen demons may be loose in our world, and the most powerful men in existence cannot conjure up so much as a piddling clue as to where they went. That worries me, Magisters. It worries me a lot.” He paused, then suggested quietly, “Perhaps we should be worrying about it together.”

Ramirus raised an eyebrow. “You are proposing some kind of cooperative effort?”

“You know as well as I do what will happen if we fail to get this situation under control.”

“That was not my question.”

Lazaroth nodded. “Then, yes, I am suggesting we four pool our efforts. And we could invite Fadir to join us, if you think he would be an asset. But no others. For the reasons already discussed.”

“Others could not be trusted,” Colivar said. The irony of the concept amused him.

“Precisely.”

Colivar looked at Ramirus. The expression on the Magister’s face was neither surprised nor derisive. In fact, Ramirus had told Colivar a while back that some kind of cooperative effort might become necessary in time. Doubtless he was contemplating whether this particular effort was the one he’d been waiting for.

If Ramirus is still working for House Aurelius,
Colivar mused,
then we serve rival monarchs once more. Will he commit to becoming my ally in one war while we are still enemies in another?

But of course he knew the answer to that. Ramirus lived for this kind of challenge. The fact that it might prove genuinely dangerous only added spice to the game. How many things were there in the world that could threaten a Magister in any meaningful way?

The white-haired Magister nodded slowly, his fingers stroking his long beard as he spoke. “Your argument is a bit unorthodox, Lazaroth, but there is no denying its merit. I am skeptical about how well the details will play out, but it’s clear we’ve come to a crossroads here, and we cannot just stagger blindly forward.

“I for one am old enough to remember the Dark Ages. I do not wish to return to that time. Ever.” He nodded shortly. “So yes. I would be willing to share information with this company, as it pertains to the Souleater invasion. To see what our common resources can make of it.”

“As would I,” Sulah offered.

Lazaroth looked at Colivar. There was a challenge in his eyes.

“I will do the same,” Colivar said quietly.

How carefully you crafted that promise, Ramirus! Promising the world but committing to nothing. Was that for my benefit? Did you fear that I would shy away from a commitment to share everything I knew? Or were you just wary of making such a promise yourself?

You have always hungered after my knowledge, and now you have a context in which to lay claim to it. How pleased you must be that Lazaroth’s’ plan serves your agenda so well!

Of course, he mused, that was probably not a coincidence. Ramirus was not the kind of Magister who left things to chance. The only question was whether he had actually conspired with Lazaroth or had relied upon more subtle means to manipulate him into doing what he wanted. Knowing Ramirus as well as he did, Colivar guessed the latter was more likely.

My ancient and esteemed rival,
he thought soberly,
you are more dangerous to me than all the Souleaters put together.

Given his personal history, that was a truly daunting thought.

Standing on the walkway that edged the roof of Kierdwyn Castle, observing how the late afternoon sun shimmered on the snow-capped mountains to the north, Colivar waited. Normally he would have left the Protectorate as soon as Lazaroth’s meeting was over, but he still had one more piece of business to take care of.

Then the iron-banded door opened, and a Magister stepped through.

Ramirus.

Colivar nodded as the other man came to where he stood and gazed out at the view by his side. Colivar said nothing immediately, just ran his finger along the edge of the parapet, pausing to note where a dark stain marked the coarse stone. “I gather there was a suicide here once,” he said in a companionable tone.

Ramirus glanced down at the mark. “Almost. It was interrupted.”

Colivar bound enough sorcery to identify the blood’s owner. “Rhys.”

Ramirus nodded. “The despair of a man who suddenly discovers that he has betrayed someone he cares about can drive him to desperate extremes. It also makes for an interesting study.”

“A death wish that strong is never completely overcome,” Colivar said quietly, “though it may take on other guises. Sometimes the thing we call ‘courage’ is simply its public face.”

Ramirus raised an eyebrow. “You think Rhys’ courage was no more than that? A death wish?”

“No. I researched his history, and I’m satisfied he was a genuine martyr. Rare as that breed may be. But I wonder . . . had he hungered for life in his final hours, the way men naturally do, might it have made a difference? Might he have made different choices at key moments? Leading to different paths, different options, and ultimately a way to accomplish his goal without dying?” He shrugged. “I was not at the battle, so I don’t know all the details of what went on there. But it’s an interesting question to contemplate.”

Ramirus snorted softly. “You wax philosophical tonight.”

Colivar shrugged. “Perhaps the current state of the world brings out the philosopher in me.” He wiped his finger on his shirt, leaving a streak of dust behind. “The Alkali campaign was interesting, at any rate. With some interesting participants. I was especially intrigued by the witch who helped us out. The red-headed one. What was her name?”

“Kamala?”

“A curious creature. What did you make of her?”

Ramirus shrugged. “She is very skilled. She knows her art. She also knows Magister customs better than outsiders usually do; I would not be surprised to learn that she served as companion to a Magister at one point.” He stared out at the mountains once more. “I found it easy to read her emotions, impossible to read her soul. Sorcery slides right off her —but I am sure you know all that.”

“She used her power very freely,” he suggested.

“A woman in love does foolish things, sometimes. And a man, for that matter. I have seen witches burn up their final athra for less.” He looked at Colivar curiously. “You have a special interest in this woman?”

“I have a special interest in any witch willing to expend her life-essence for a cause. If we can find enough of them, the Magisters can keep to the sidelines in this war.”

Ramirus chuckled. “The Magisters will keep to the sidelines anyway. You know that. Men cannot fight against a common enemy when they are more interested in fighting each other.”

“But now we have an
alliance,
” Colivar reminded him. A faint smirk attended the word.

“Ah. Yes.” Ramirus smiled dryly. “We shall see how much that accomplishes.”

“You think Lazaroth really believes in it?”

“I think Lazaroth wants to know where Siderea Aminestas is, and everything else he said was merely to distract us. Why he would care so much about her is a question for another day. However, even an imperfect alliance can prove useful. War is indisputably on the horizon, and having us each do reconnaissance separately is a waste of time and resources. Now, how
much
information will be shared between us . . . that is another matter.” His cold gaze fixed on Colivar. “But you know that, of course.”

“I have provided a good deal of information already,” he pointed out.

“Yes,” Ramirus’ blue eyes glittered in the moonlight. “And when I get home I shall work on figuring out which parts of it were true, and which were no more than artful diversions.”

Colivar hesitated. For a moment he seemed to be considering how much to say. At last he offered, “Here is a bit of truth for you. I will be severing my ties to Anshasa.”

Ramirus’ smile faded. Colivar knew him well enough to catch the sudden spark of interest in his eyes and to feel the cold touch of his power as it probed his defenses, seeking even the faintest hint of his true motivation. But Colivar had woven multiple layers of sorcery about himself to ward off just such an inquiry. Some subjects were significant enough that they merited powerful protection. “You think this matters to me. Why?”

“You and I have served warring monarchs for a generation. It’s been good sport, Ramirus. But I don’t think Salvator hungers for power the way his father did. Which means that King Farah no longer needs to worry about Aurelius aggression . . . or yours. A lesser Magister can take care of his needs now, so I am free to focus on more important things.” His black eyes narrowed as he studied Ramirus intently, aggressively casting out nets of sorcery to pick up any stray trace of emotion that might slip past that flawless mask. No doubt his old rival sensed the effort, though his expression revealed nothing. “So you see, one long-standing barrier between us will soon be removed.”

For a moment Ramirus just stared at him. No doubt he could sense the sorcerous tendrils Colivar was using to prod at his soul, seeking more information on the subject. “I think you mistake me,” he said at last. All emotion had been deliberately stripped from his voice; and his expression was unreadable as stone. “I have no contract with the High King. So your political machinations are . . . irrelevant.”

And then, without further word, he turned and walked back the way he had come, commanding the iron-bound door to open for him as he approached, then closing it behind him as he passed into the castle. He spared no parting word for Colivar, or even a parting glance.

Colivar chuckled softly. He was not surprised by his abrupt exit. Clearly Ramirus had been less than certain he could mask his emotions on the level required to fend off Colivar’s sorcery. He’d wanted to get out of range before some stray wisp of emotion could be captured and analyzed. That was fine with Colivar. That Ramirus had sensed his inquiry in the first place, and knew how much Colivar wanted information pertaining to his contract with House Aurelius, was really all that mattered. Now Ramirus would deduce that the first part of their conversation had been meaningless small talk, designed to put him off his guard. What Colivar had
really
wanted to know, he would tell himself, was which Magister was allied to the High King; all the rest had been a distraction. Colivar had already given himself away with his protective spells, wrapping them so tightly around his own thoughts when discussing the Aurelius situation that it was clear that was his true interest.

Lies within lies within lies. Ramirus would spend the next few hours teasing the threads of the exchange apart, trying to determine which words had really mattered, versus which ones had been intended just to throw him off the scent. Did Colivar care more about learning who Salvator’s Magister Royal really was, or about Anshasa’s political standing in general? Colivar had layered his every word with sorcery, suppressing all hints of genuine emotion, so that Ramirus would have to fall back upon the mundane sorts of clues that came from a man’s tone of voice, his expression, his posture . . . and of course, the knowledge that a Magister only guarded his privacy that fiercely when there were secrets he needed to protect.