Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (15 page)

  They would have been more concerned had they realized that their control had been usurped so effortlessly.

An image of them still eating played in the back of George Bradley’s lightly enrapport mind. His staff glowed very softly in the brightly lit room as he rose from the table; the room now passively warded by the computer staff. The image projected for scrying, prying mages.

  H
is mage––posing guest was fascinating. Dustin’s anxiety was quite palpable and very helpful. His companion’s talisman echoed the man’s emotions. Staff scanned the enchantment. Mimicking its effects had proved a challenge.

 
Discerning whether ‘Master Galt’ was a friend or foe was a question even Dustin’s erratic thoughts left unclear. Yet, this man, Terhun, seemed professional. Se’and had nodded thoughtfully to him during the meal, indicating that he was well armed beneath his flowing robes.

  George led his guests to the tapestries. Raven and Fri’il unrolled the top one. Terhun leaned forward to study it. “The colors are outstanding, just as Dustin said,” he commented, glancing at this young elfblood, who hastily smiled at the praise. “The scene would seem to depict Faeryn’s Battle in the Northlands.”

  “Faeryn’s Battle?” Se’and muttered in surprise.

  Terhun nodded, “See, here. Those dwa
rves in that infantry unit are

carrying the Aqwaine’s standard; very unique.” At her obvious incomprehension, he added, “The dwarves normally bear their liege’s standard, that of Tane. They certainly do in the more ancient battles.  But in Faeryn’s time, well, you know what happened to Tane.”

  Se’and shook her head, “I’m sorry, but I know little of Imperial history.”

  Dustin nodded, “I had forgotten. You see, back then, dwarves found themselves bereft of their lord and followed Faeryn.”

  “He became their patron in that dark time,” Terhun stated, the Service trained their agents well in Imperial history. “The last member of the old line of Tane was lost. His successors were not known for their fondness of their dwarven citizens.”

  An image of the man in his youth, learning Imperial history came clearly to his mind. His tutors were hard men. They taught loyalty and honor, showing the young Terhun why the Service he would one day render was so important. Too much had already been lost and the Lyai and his family must be protected and nurtured in order to support mankind against the Demonlord––inspired enemies within the Empire.

  George muttered, “Fascinating.” The man was an agent of the Lyai, her Imperial Majesty the Empress of Aqwaine’s cousin.    

Terhun shook his head to clear it of the old memory as he looked more closely at the tapestry. “It is truly magnificent.”

Se’and replied, “I most heartily agree.”

 
Now why,
Terhun wondered,
would a mage be so interested in this particular scene?
He casually dropped his hand to where the talisman lay. He emoted the question to his colleagues.  When there was no response, he grew concerned and glanced up to see his host shake his head.

  “I’m sorry, but I could not allow that.”

Questions and Magery

Chapter 24

B
efore Terhun could even draw his knife, he felt the dagger at his back. “I would not,” the servant, Farrel, warned.

  Terhun grew still. “A dagger to a mage’s back seems rather short––sighted.”

  Blanching, Dustin had turned to flee, but Raven was in his path. The look in the lad’s eyes was eerily feral. He sighed, “I had no choice.”

 
“Of course, you didn’t,” George replied. “You both can relax. We mean no harm to an agent of the Crown.” Fri’il’s eyebrows rose as she quickly glanced at the tense Se’and.

  Terhun gaped, realizing that matters had gone from bad to worse. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

  “Foreign merchants prefer making a profit. So I pay well to know things,” George replied. “Knowledge is power and power can mean profit… and profit often comes from the oddest sources.”

 
“You say that to a person you suspect is an agent of the Crown?”

  “Suspect? No, only to an honorable man such as yourself. Oh, let’s sit back down. I believe you have a few questions you wish to ask. We will do our best to be helpful. But the answers may lead only to more questions that we may not be willing to answer.”

  Terhun shook his head. This was not going the way it should at all. Yet, he could not pass up the opportunity. His people would surely figure out something had gone wrong soon enough, in any case. He moved to the couch and sat. “I certainly do have a few questions.”

  George smiled. “Se’and, he is interested in the guest we had the other day. Do please tell him.”

  She sighed, looking at her lord husband oddly, “As you wish. I was examining one of the tapestries, when a mage burst into the room. He attacked me with an enchantment of some kind which stunned me before I could react. As I lost consciousness it felt like I was falling into the battle the tapestry depicted, a scene of mages waging war on the Demonlord’s goblin army. After that I have no memory. Next thing I knew I awoke in bed with them hovering over me.”

  Terhun asked, “When was this?”

“While Jeo and Farrel were accompanying Dustin to the Guilds.” 

  “No one else was here?”

  Raven stepped forward, “I here.”

  He frowned. The lad was obviously a bit addled, saying little, but had seemed helpful enough during dinner. “What did you see?”

  “It ate mage.”

  “What?”

  Raven gestured. “Rose up. Ate him. Quick,” snapping her finger.

  “That’s impossible.”

  George nodded, “Doubtlessly the mage thought that, too.”

  Shaking his head, he muttered to Se’and, “You remember nothing else?”

  She frowned, “Nothing.”

  Terhun rose. “Show me the scene.”

  “No,” George replied. “That could be dangerous.”

  “If you are afraid, I can have a mage ward it.”

  “I would advise against that. You see, it no longer depicts quite the same scene.”

  Dustin rasped, “What? That’s impossible.” Terhun glared at him. “You don’t understand. I checked that tapestry for magery. For it to have changed, to have done any of what you suggest, it has to be enchanted... And it’s not.”

  George shrugged, “Well, it appears to be, now.”

  “You understand that I will have to confiscate it on behalf of the Crown,” Terhun replied, wondering how much longer his people would take to burst down the door.

  “It is safer with us,” Se’and replied.

  “I’m sorry, but that is for the Lyai to decide.”

  She looked at Je’orj, who shook his head and said, “No, that is for the Highmage to decide.”

  “Huh?”

  George pointed. The tapestry before them abruptly rolled up. Dustin

gaped in shock as Terhun saw the tapestry roll right up to his feet.

  “The matter is for the Highmage to decide… and I am a representative of the Highmage,” he said.

 
:That’s one way to put it,:
Staff quipped in the back of his mind.

  “What? But you are a human! Humans cannot even do magic!”

  “So people keep telling me. And, honestly, I have no doubt that you’re right since I don’t do magic.”

  Terhun looked about for some sign of a powerful talisman, when he stopped cold. He turned, “You are the Highmage’s hand. But Alrex has not had a doppelganger in decades!”

  George frowned at the suggestion, knowing he would have to explore that idea more fully at a later time. Well, in the meantime, he had best go with it. “Not that anyone is supposed to know of... Should the Lyai be the only one with agents?”

  Terhun lowered his head. It could not possibly be true. However, the dark mage had vanished here. However, he needed proof. He could not just report back to the Lyai that an agent of the Highmage was here in the capital, a man that could do magery as only the doppelganger of a Highmage could. Such people were more legend than real. But he knew historically that such people existed – that Alrex had even had such a human reflection many years past. The bards still sang of Ome’s tales throughout the Empire still.

  “So where is your unicorn?”

  “My unicorn?” George muttered.

  “The source of your magery, the greatest talisman and boon any human can bear.”

 
:George.:

“Very well. My unicorn,” he replied, walking away, then grasped his staff, which leaned against the wall. It abruptly blazed. “Yes, my unicorn horn.”

 
Everyone hastily covered their eyes and Dustin fell to his knees. “My Lord.”

  George quickly helped usher the young elfblood to his feet. “Stop that.”

  Terhun gaped. “Unicorn horn?”

  “Don’t tell me you believed those old tales about my ilk riding a unicorn? Have you ever seen one? Believe me, this ‘horn’ is enough trouble without have to ride it.”

  :
Do not you dare!
: the computer staff warned.

  The real question was: would Terhun believe this?

Lord Erianda had pored over reports, seeking what his predecessor had sought. He frowned at the reference. A foreign merchant was seen buying items at the Debtor’s Sale. Looking over the list carefully, he wondered if a talisman or something else had been sold – something the other Lord Erianda had reason to fear.

  Tin cups? Tapestries… tapestries depicting details of Faeryn’s Battle; dwarves marching under the Empress’s banner, a legion from Llewelyn seen joining the Empire’s reserves, then a foreign force in black livery, hundreds strong reinforced them and led the vanguard.

 
He frowned at that the description. A foreign force, his agent noted, if they were Northlanders would it not say so? That brought him to the Archive in search of references to the battle. Until at last he found a reference to mercenaries, he followed that up seeking payment details and found nothing. What mercenaries fought without reward?

  Banging his heels against the floor, the dark mage realized that the Archives contained nothing further. He stalked out of the chamber angrily, then stopped. Perhaps, there was one other avenue he might explore here. He marched into the bardic archive, which held scrolls of all the songs sung about battles past.

  A bardic mage frowned at his abrupt entry. “May I help you?”

  “I seek tales of Faeryn’s Battle.”

  The elfblood looked at him distastefully. “Would that we could rid ourselves of that song as well?”

 
Erianda frowned, “What?”

  “You must have been gone long. The Guild has barred songs about Faeryn mages from the Archives. But we have not yet dared to remove songs about the Highmage himself.”

  Smiling thinly, Erianda replied, “Give it time, Brother.”

  The bardic archivist grinned, “You will find what you seek that way.”

  Erianda marched off, then spent hours going through song after song. So many about the dratted Faeryn until he stumbled upon the songs relating to the Northland War. Songs hailing the dwarves who allied themselves with Faeryn, songs heralding Llewelyn’s efforts, falling back in retreat that led the goblin hordes into a trap, a trap that looked about to fail as dragons entered the fray.

  He stared at that tale for some time and noted how the Llewelyn had commissioned tapestries of the scenes to hang in his great hall. Erianda frowned thoughtfully. A cadet branch of the Llewelyn’s now ruled that western province. The question was where were those tapestries so many centuries later? Why they might end up in the Debtor’s Sale he could not fathom – and why such things could threaten his Master’s plans, he had not a clue
.
Yet, if those tapestries were more than they appeared…   

  He rolled up the bardic scroll and hid it beneath his robes. He would make a quiet inquiry of his counterpart in that province. The elflord who had orchestrated the fall of that royal line would certainly know whether a battle scene tapestry still graced the hall.