Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (11 page)

Deliveries

Chapter 16

T
hey returned to their accommodations late in the afternoon, having spent the day going through the Lower City. Packages had been delivered and were piled up against the wall and two very exhausted looking servant boys hastened to rise from the divan chairs. “Se’and, you’re back! I mean,” the older looking lad hastened to add, “Masters! You have returned!”

  “Yes, Farrel, we have! And you had best have completed all your tasks, too!” Se’and shouted as she closed and barred the door firmly.

  Once shut, George shook his head wryly and muttered to his staff, “Ward.” The staff began to glow, radiating a protective field that would curb any intrusion or attempt at spying. George set it in the center of the room; sitting down in one of the plush chairs less than five feet away, weary.

In this land of elvin magery, spying through scrying was an expected norm. Anyone attempting it would conclude that as a wealthy merchant, he had secured an enchantment against such attempts. In this case, they would not be far from the truth. The technology the computer staff employed seemed very much like magic on this fey world.

 
With a sound of disgust, the youngest lad pulled off his livery, then started to throw off his servant garb. “Please, Raven... You are getting them wrinkled!” Se’and said exasperatedly.

  Grinning, the girl threw aside her trousers, stretched her arms then shimmered, changing into a tawny furred beast with a black mane. She padded up to George, who leaned forward and hugged her. “I missed you, too.”

  His shape changing foster––daughter licked his face with her raspy tongue. He chuckled, while the handsome servant, Farrel, touched short cropped blonde hair and bristled at the confining straps that bound her bosom tightly beneath the servant jerkin and livery. “I have come to hate this, Se’and. Couldn’t you play the boy and leave me your role?”

  With a laugh, Se’and replied, “You are doing well enough.”

  “Je’orj, please can’t we end this farce? I know all the reasons that it’s best I play the lad, but…”

  “Oh, this was not my idea, so I would prefer being left out of it!” None of this was his idea, not once since the moment he had been fallen through the elvin Gate at the dig in Europe to this distant long forgotten colony world.

  Fri’il strode up to him and wrapped her arms about his neck. She kissed him soundly.  “Now, is that any way to speak to your wife?”

  He awkwardly disengaged her arms from around his neck. “Fri’il,” he grated.

  “As one Cathartan bonded to him to another, Fri’il,” Se’and hastened to forestall the argument, “You know your duty. We protect his life with all our strength and guile!” 

The younger woman awkwardly loosened her under––bindings with distaste, “That doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”

 
Se’and sighed. “Milord, tomorrow we should visit the Guild shops in the Merchant District.”

  “Oh, joy,” George Bradley replied having grown tired of playing the role of merchant.  Yet, the Demonlord, the long ago elfking of this world, stalked him – sought to kill him for reasons beyond George’s ken. The Demonlord was the nemesis of this Empire of humans and elves, as of all things human. Now that they had reached the capital of this eastern province, the Demonlord’s minions were closer than ever to killing him... almost had twice in recent weeks.  That had led to this scheme to lose their pursuit, which resulted in his elfblooded friend, Balfour, who he had been training in human healing techniques, leading two of their bonded Cathartan escort away. If all went as planned, this would confuse any further pursuit, then he could go off in disguise and meet them in the Imperial Capital.

  It felt strange only these past few weeks to be without them.

 
Se’and seeing his introspective look remarked, “Do not give me that, Je’orj, I know you will eagerly examine every object they make – even if only from curiosity. It is the ‘archy––ol––ogist’ in you that delights in looking at all things primitive.”

  “One thing I will say for this world. It may be barbaric culturally, but technologically it continues to surprise me.”

  Fri’il ruffled his hair, “Admit it. You have come to enjoy becoming a barbarian.”

  With a sigh, he shook his head.

  She grinned at him.

  There was a knock at the door. Fri’il quietly cursed, shifting her bindings, and straightening her jerkin. Se’and quickly picked up Raven’s clothes and carried them into the next room. George concentrated. Staff ceased glowing, dropping the shield.

Fri’il walked to the door and partially opened it, finding an elfblooded youth. “Yes, how may I help you?”

  “The name’s Dustin. I’m here to deliver Lady Se’and’s tapestries.”

  “He’s expected, Farrel,” Se’and said, returning to the main room.

  Taking her hand off her dagger hilt concealed beneath her jerkin, Fri’il motioned him to enter. “Do come in, good sir.”

  The apprentice Faeryn said, “I’ve your tapestries downstairs. I could use some help.”

  Fri’il glanced back at the tawny furred Raven, lying at her lord’s feet. Her eyes flashed as she mouthed, “Lazybones.”

Raven grinned wolfishly as Fri’il turned to follow the young mage. “Of course, good sir.” She closed the door firmly behind her.

  George knelt and scratched his foster––daughter’s ears. “You got out of that nicely.”

  The beast’s eyes shone with mischief.

The cart was less than remarkable. The horse that drew it was even more so. A street urchin sat watching the cart and its contents. “See, it’s all ‘ere, M’lord. Like’s I promise!”

  Dustin chuckled, “The ward spell likely helped.”

  The lad had his right hand hidden behind his back. “Wot ever da ya mean, m’lord?”

 
“The sting from a first touch will go away in a day or two. The second

now, hmm, you had best see a healer…”

  He showed his hand. “Swears I didna!”

  “Good, then when I’m done here, you will get the copper I promised you!”

  The lad sighed, “Aye, m’lord!”

Fri’il hesitated as he offered her his hand to help her ascend the cart. “I’ll need you to push each one off, then I’ll bespell them forward. I should be able to handle two at a time.”

 
She shook her head as he began waving his hands in a spell pattern, yet muttered no words. She shoved the topmost rolled up tapestry forward and suddenly saw it rise. He nodded to her, still waving his hands. Pushing the next, she felt it taken up by unseen hands, then she climbed off the cart. Dustin gestured and the two tapestries entered the suddenly opened hotel doorway. She followed him as the street boy gaped.

Keeping Up Appearances

Chapter 17

A
fter delivering the fifth and final tapestry, Dustin looked wane and pale. George urged him to sit and catch his breath. “Farrel, bring that cup and pitcher of water, please.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I must be going,” Dustin rasped as the man pushed him back onto the divan.

  “You have exhausted yourself with your little tricks.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t so difficult. Faeryn training…”

  “Although, I am very curious about your training, please sit, at least for as long as it takes for Se’and to get you your pay. Ah, thank you, Farrel. Now drink this down – it’s only water.”  George put his hand on the young man’s wrist and sensed his vital signs.

 
:Malnourished,:
the computer staff whispered, increasing their rapport.

  Se’and shook her head, telling herself she would not let herself be taken in by the elfblood. She would not pay him a penny more than agreed. She counted out the fee she had promised and handed it to the young mage. He gratefully accepted it.

“Thank you, my lady. You have been very generous.” George smiled at him and sent a pulse of energy into him. Color suddenly returned to his cheeks. Dustin blinked and sighed, inexplicably feeling better. “I had best be going. My Master will be expecting me.”

  “What’s the rush?” George asked. “Join us for dinner.”

  He stared in surprised. “Dinner?”

  “Farrel, let our host know to set an extra place. We have a guest.”

 
“Uh, certainly, Milord.” Fri’il rushed out as Raven padded close to the mage and sniffed him. Dustin gently stroked her mane.

“I’m sorry, but I really must be going.”

  “No, young mage,” George said as his staff began flashed out of the

corner of his eye.  Dustin grew still, seemingly frozen in place as the light played across his gaze. “You have graciously accepted our hospitality. You know you need the meal and you very much want to save the coin you earned today. Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he answered woodenly. “But I cannot let anyone know that.”

  “Of course not. Appearances are important.”

  “No one must know,” the young elfblood muttered nodding sleepily.

  “You are tired. Nap now. You will remember only keeping up appearances and accepting my invitation because you were so very hungry. Now sleep.”

  Dustin’s head lolled forward.

  “Je’orj, what are you doing?” Se’and rasped, incredulous.

  He smiled, “I think making friends with mages who vocalize no spells and are both underpaid and unappreciated.”

  Raven shimmered, “Father, that sounds… like you.”

 
“Minus the magic spells. Now get dressed, I want you to eat properly with knife and fork tonight. After all, we have a guest.”

  “
Aw, bother…”

The food was absolutely delicious. Dustin tried his best not to wolf it down; although, bad manners seemed to be permitted at table. The young lad ate voraciously enough. He was just glad that they had not brought their guard beast to dine as well.

 
George coughed, hearing that thought clearly in his mind. The lad had a strong mind touch. “Dustin, I must say I am impressed by your talent for magery. However, I have never before seen an elvin mage not vocalize a spell before. It is quite, uh, unsettling.”

  The young mage laughed, “It is the Faeryn technique. We think the incantations, do the proper gestures, but we do not vocalize the spells. Highmage Faeryn learned the technique by accident some say. The Faeryn School of Magery arose from his teachings.”

  “Highmage Faeryn... I’m afraid having grown up far away from here, I know little of Imperial history. How long ago was he Highmage?”

  Dustin smiled, “Three to four hundred years ago. The schism took place upon his death.”

  “Schism?”

  “The Traditionalists, the next Highmage among them, barred his

techniques from being taught at the Academy. His foremost students left the Capital and began teaching and taking apprentices wherever they might.”

  “You mean after centuries of magery being taught only one way, they founded their own Academies throughout the Empire, teaching the new techniques?”

  “Well, not Academies, precisely. We train under Masters, like the Guilds. We are not recognized members of the Mage Guild. They will not accept anyone who does not cast traditional mageries. We work where we may. The Mage Guild has exclusive contracts with many of the crafters. We work on the fringes.”

George sat back. “I would think that Academy trained mages would be your chief rivals for all such tasks.”

  He laughed, “They say that such work is beneath their talents, which leaves the market to us.”

  “Incredible,” George mused aloud. “Are there many Faeryn mages throughout the Empire?”

  He shrugged, “Hundreds,” then admitted, “well, perhaps, thousands.”

  “Each trained by a single Master, I take it?” At Dustin’s nod, he asked, “How many apprentices might a Master train at once?”

 
“It depends... Sometimes only one; other times as many as three.”

  “Depending on what?”

  Dustin shook his head, “How many are stubborn enough to want to learn the Faeryn techniques and not seek the glory of the Academy, or dreams of rising to be a Court mage.”

  “Oh,” George replied ruefully, hearing and feeling Dustin’s anger. “Eat up. There is plenty more.”

  Fri’il and Se’and glanced at each other, mystified by the exchange until he asked Dustin, “Tomorrow we plan to visit the Guilds in the Merchant District. Would you know if any of them are allied with Faeryn mages?”

  Dustin looked at him sharply. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t know, sir.”

  George sat back, “Let me get right to it then. I would like you to guide Se’and and myself, tomorrow, to those Guilds which have been innovative enough to utilize Faeryn skills. I am a businessman, lad. I think I may very well want to do a great deal of business with certain of the local Guilds.

But quality of manufacture is key; and in the Crescent Lands mage––

wrought fetches good prices.”

  Dustin slowly smiled. “Guides do not come cheap, my good sir.”

  “Of course not.”

  Se’and shook her head, now he was enjoying the role. She just hoped this would not lead to trouble. She wanted to hit herself. Of course, it would. Her lord, Je’orj Bradlei, always found trouble.