Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (18 page)

Faeryn Marked

Chapter 29

“O
ut of our way!” one of the five Guildmasters shouted as they burst past assistants and servants.

  The silver-hai
red old elf stared as the craftmasters, who depended on his Guild’s mageries to promote their wares, cried for his attention. His personal apprentice hissed at them and raised his hands in preparation for casting a spell that would bar them. Eyes wide, he yelled in dismay, “Please you must hear us out or we will all be ruined!”

  “What?” he rasped, forestalling his apprentice with a gesture.

  “Our goods are practically worthless!” one lamented.  “We pay your mages fair wages!  You cannot allow us to be ruined!”

  His fellows nodded as the old elf shook his head uncertainly, “What are you blathering about?”

  “Everyone wants Faeryn marked goods!” growled the Master of the Carpentry Guild.

  The mage gaped, “What?” Then he glared angrily, “Explain yourselves before you rue the day you dared enter these walls!”

  They looked instantly sheepish and fearful, “Your pardon, Archmage,” each muttered.

“So they went to Constandine.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  The Lyai, the Provincial Governor, sat back thoughtfully. “Well, cousin Talik will be pleased that his Faeryn are finally getting their due... But this foreigner merchant must be a madman to blithely

ignore his peril.”

  “Doubtless he sees some profit in his actions,” Terhun offered mildly, wondering if he should tell his lord all he knew, then thought instantly

better of it.
Certain things were best left alone for the time being.

 
“Which means that Constandine and a host of merchants, Guildmasters, and others are going to be besieging my Court... I hate this kind of politics, Terhun.”

  “I understand... But you must admit, the Faeryn enchanted goods have too long been shunned for no good reason.”

  “Yes, but that has been the problem. Whatever could have made such a talented Highmage like Faeryn decide to split the mages of the Empire so?”

  When it came to mages, Terhun, a mere human knew it wiser not to answer. What Faeryn had wrought saved the Empire. It was his successor who fostered the factionalizing and Highmage Alrex after him had done little of note to set matters right. Yet, Alrex, to his credit, had made matters no worse.

  The Lyai sighed. “Your silence speaks louder than mere words, Terhun.”

  “Excuse me, Milord?”

  He chuckled, “Very well, use that wonderful patience of yours and watch over our wayward merchant.”

  Terhun bowed truly grateful that the Lyai was wise beyond his years. As he left the Lyai he was already thinking about the men to set a quiet guard over the supposed foreign merchant, who was something much more worrisome – apparently the agent of Highmage Alrex, himself.

The Lyai was arguing with his factor as Archmage Constandine entered the palace. The factor took one look at the mage’s visage and decided it would be easier to obey the Lyai’s wishes than to remain and continue to try to talk him out of it.

  “Ah, Constandine, what brings you here so unexpectedly?”

  The mage laughed, “Don’t tell me you are completely unaware of matters.”

  “Hmm, I cannot attest to being certain of what would earn you’re the ire your Guild.  Usually it is something my heir, cousin Talik, has been up to...  But he has been out of the city for some time, I’ve been told.”

  “Your heir has always been point of irritation, but merely as a gnat... The reason I am here is more disturbing.”

  “What? Has the Demonlord infiltrated your ranks?”

 
The Archmage coughed, “No.” Not since Talik uncovered the Dark mage in the Guild’s ranks, he thought, but matters had improved dramatically once Talik was accused of treason and had fled the Capital. “Nothing of the kind. It has come to my attention that someone has slandered the quality of my Guild’s craftwork.”

  “Slandered? Are you certain anyone would be so foolish?”

  “A foreigner has placed doubt on the quality of our enchantments. My Masters and journeyman are the finest in the Empire!”

  The Lyai nodded. “And anyone would doubt this?”

  Constandine frowned, “I cannot allow my Guild to be slandered by rumor and innuendo.”

  “Of course not, Archmage... So, why have you come to me?”

  Smiling thinly, Constandine replied, “Your support in this matter would garner my Guild much in assuaging the fears that have been raised.”

  “Hmm, what kind of support?”

  “Oh, it would be a simple matter... One quickly dealt with at Court.”

  “Are you asking me to arrest someone?” the Lyai asked clearly startled.

  The Archmage shook his head, “No, milord; something much more effective. At Court tomorrow you could merely purchase a token gift, embossed with my Guild’s mark.”

  “Purchase something?” he replied.

  “Yes, something of consequence... like a bane sword,” the mage suggested.

  The Lyai blinked, “The cost of that would not be a token price, I suspect.”

  “You would pay for the finest sword my Guild has ever created!”

  “Would you put that to the test as a condition on the price?”

  Constandine frowned, “You will find no better in the whole of the Empire.”

  “Would not a demonstration prove just how superior your enchantments are?” the Lyai asked, a bit mischievously.

  With a sigh
,
Constandine nodded thoughtfully, then named an exorbitant price. The Lyai did not even haggle. The Archmage left, thinking about what test he might put the bane sword to even as the Lyai shouted for his factor, who arrived far too quickly – hoping that his lordship had come to his senses.

  The doors firmly closed behind the Archmage as the Lyai announced, “I’ve changed my mind. Forget what I wanted before.”

  “Excellent choice, milord,” his factor replied in relief. “Your money would be better spent on…”

  “…A bane sword.”

  “A bane sword, Milord?”

 
“Yes, I think Faeryn enchanted.”

  “
Faeryn?” the factor choked.

  “
Oh, never mind, I’ll approach that new merchant I’ve heard about to acquire it for us.”

  T
he factor choked, “Allow me, Your Grace.”

The Lyai smiled as he left the chamber, he had every reason to distrust anything for Constandine and his Mage Guild. Besides, he missed his cousin, Talik, and cursed the politics that had forced the leader of the Faeryn to flee the Capital.

Dustin had returned to the Faeryn Hall that afternoon and found himself the center of attention. Practically every Faeryn master and journeyman in the city was either there, or soon arrived. They had seemingly a hundred questions for him, then the celebration began in earnest. Goods with the Faeryn mark were in demand as never before, but one of the Master’s cautioned this turn of events could as quickly change.

  That was when the most unexpected man arrived. He looked at all the mages around him, swallowed, asking their pardon and…

George was seated at a café. He glanced about the street as Se’and sat across from him and his “servants” sat at several tables away as was, apparently, the Imperial custom. “You are in Heaven, aren’t you, uh, Jeo.”

  “
This is quite a city. For example, the design of those doorways and windows is not to human esthetics.”

 
With a slight smile, Se’and replied, “Those are the outer door to elvin homes. It’s said the elfblood’s have a different design for their inner houses, where only their human servants may enter… There was so nonsense when I was last here of time running differently there.”

 
George frowned, thinking about legends of elves living Underhill. He took another bite of his omelet when there was a sudden disturbance on

the street. Se’and glanced at Fri’il, who quietly reached for her daggers.

  “Master Jeo! Master Jeo!” the troupe came running.

 
No one seemed armed. He rose, leaning on his staff, “Yes?”

 
“You must help us! The Lyai’s in the market for a bane sword and he wants to buy it through you!”

 
“Wha…? Well, how grand.  Se’and, I guess we should check out the market for swords.”

 
She smiled, “Swords… how marvelous.”

Buying a Sword

Chapter 30

D
ustin was under orders. Follow the merchant Jeo d’Aere – and recently things had gotten very interesting, indeed.

 
Even though he was watching the merchant, someone saw him and let out a small gasp and vanished indoors. She glanced out the kitchen window and hurried to the stasis box on the counter. Opening it, she hurried back out as Dustin began walking past, watching the crowd head down the street.

 
“Dustin, what are you doing here!?”

 
The young mage stiffened, then turned around and winced, “Uh, hi, Katrin.”

 
“Would you like some pie? It’s delicious!”

 
“Uh, all the same, I’m on Faeryn business, and dare not delay.”

 
She frowned, “It’s fresh from the oven.” Well, just as good as having been kept in the stasis back as soon as it came out of the over. “It’ll get cold… It’s your favorite.”

 
He smelled the aroma. His mouth watered, “Uh… I really shouldn’t.”

 
She cut him a piece and Dustin found himself sitting beside her as she then fed him a bite on the spoon she’d brought. She smiled.

 
His eyes grew wide as she sidled closer.

 
That’s when her grandmother looked out the kitchen window. “Girl, wha’ da ya think ya’re  doin’!”

 
Dustin grabbed up the pie and ran, shouting, “Gotta go! Thanks for the pie!”

 
“By the Empress,” Katrin muttered.

 
“Girl! That wasn’t my pie, was it?”

 
“Of course not, Grandma,” she watched Dustin’s quick retreating back.

 
“Girl! The box is empty! That was my pie –– you’ve earned late hours at

the Washers tonight!”

  Katrin shrugged, slowly smiling, “Dustin’s so cute.”

 
“Argh,” her grandmother rasped.

  “Master Winterhil,” whispered his assistant. The elf looked up at the new visitors to his shop.

 
“I understand that the finest swords in the Province can be purchased here.”

 
The sword seller laughed, “So you are the foreign merchant everyone’s been talking about.”

 
“Jeo d’Aere of the Crescent Lands Trade, at your service, Milord,” George said, staff in hand.

 
“So is this business or pleasure? A single purchase, something for yourself, perhaps?” Winterhil asked, smiling thinly.

 
“We’ve a commission, but are also looking for possible wares,” the merchant replied.

 
The silver-haired elf smiled as his associates positioned themselves as if they were more bodyguards than assistants. Se’and glanced at Fri’il, who returned her smile. The elf gestured, “High gold, elvin silver, and great bronze swords, all tempered in spells that will make them marvelous bane swords.” 

 
“I take it they are all Mage Guild certified.”  

 
“Certified, well, they all have the Guild’s mark of enchantment,” the old elf replied.

 
“What we’re looking for is a fine sword without enchantment.”

 
Frowning, the elf gestured to the back. “I’ve a wide variety of serviceable swords. However, I cannot recommend enough a good bane sword in a fight.”

 
Se’and drew several and commented on balance, heft, and style. The old elf glanced at his nearest associate, who frowned, uncertain as well. Until the taller of the two servants gasped and drew a lone sword from the stocks, and exclaimed, “Se’and, look at this!”

 
“This is Cathartan.”

 
“Yes,” Ebrim answered, “quite rare, actually.”

 
“House of Erone, isn’t it?” Se’and said, drawing it forth, looking at the sigil.

 
“You know your swords, Milady.”

 
Se’and glanced at Fri’il in her servant boy livery and nodded, “We have dealt in swords across the Crescent Lands, Master… Jeo, this might be just what we’re looking for.”

 
“That blade is a lighter weight. Too light for an officer in the Legion, you understand. But excellent for training a youth.”

 
The merchant responded, “I’m looking for a sword suitable for a young man.”

 
The old elf frowned. “In that case, I suggest you choose one of my bane swords.

 
“I’m looking for something unenchanted.”

 
“That’s rather foolish,” the elf replied.

 
Dustin entered the shop, edging past Ebrim Winterhil’s henchmen, “Master Winterhil, I’m hoping the Faeryn may prove of assistance to Master Jeo.”

 
“Doubly foolish, if true,” the old elf said.

 
George grinned, “That’s me all over... How much for it?”

 
“More than you can afford.”

 
“Oh, try me.”

 
Give it to him, Ebrim
.

 
The old elf’s eyes widened. He knew that voice. “Take it, it’s yours.”

 
Se’and frowned as did the old elf’s associates. George merely smiled, “Why, thank you, I promise, you won’t regret it.”

 
“I already do… Now take it, and the Faeryn, with you.”

  He was not surprised in the least to see Terhun enter his shop. “What do you want?”

 
“How much did he pay for that sword?”

 
“I take it you knew he wasn’t interested in any of my bane swords.”

 
“I am well aware of that, Ebrim. Now how much did he pay?”

 
“Nothing, I gave it to him as a gift.”

 
“You what?” Terhun exclaimed.

 
“What do you know of that man?”

 
“Not enough,” Terhun admitted.

 
“Then I suggest you know even less than you think.”

 
Terhun’s eyes widened. “So you gave him the sword?”

 
“That particular sword is very rare. You might say it was a spoil of war.”

 
“Ebrim…”

 
“It’s Cathartan, and they recognized its sigil. I don’t know any in the Empire who could; or in the Crescent Lands since the Cathartans don’t sell their swords. They are either taken from their dead, or given as gifts.”

 
“And how did you come by it?”

 
Ebrim sighed, “I killed the bastard that slew its previous owner, someone who, well, I didn’t know well, but saved my life once for no reason I’ll ever know.”

 
“You’re referring…”

 
“To the day I retired from Imperial Service, Master Terhun.”

 
“People like you and I can never truly retire,” Terhun replied.

 
“No, I suppose not, but until today I thought I had at least restricted my territory of responsibility to these walls.”

 
Terhun gazed at the old elf, who shook his head, “His lady is a Cathartan. She was born with a sword like the one they left here with in her hand… and the merchant, if I were you, Agent Terhun, I’d trust him with my life.”

 
That was a most unexpected endorsement, but Ebrim would brook

no further explanation.

Dustin left them at their rooms with the merchant’s request to create a new bane sword for the Lyai’s consideration. Se’and gave the sword to Fri’il, who sat with it almost reverently.

George watched and frowned.

 
Fri’il looked up, “Je’orj, I was born to House Erone. This sword is very old and I, I think it belonged to Lord Erone, himself.”

 
“Your father?”

 
“No, more like my great great grandfather.”

 
Se’and said, “The Erones are the only House where sire and heir have the same name.”

 
Nodding, Fri’il added, “It’s been that way since Erone Secondson’s House began.”

 
“He was a secondson?”

 
“Kyrr’s youngest son,” Se’and added.

Stealing Charm
and Dreams

Chapter 31

T
here they were. They had arrived that morning, in a simple farmer’s cart.  The sight of the elfblood drew notice. The town was not particularly small but rumors flew fast.  A boy asked the dark-haired fellow if he was a mage. The man laughed, “No, I’m just a healer.”

  That remark drew Efram – it always did. But none had been able to fix his lame leg, which, if his tall tales were to be believed, had been injured in the Aqwaine’s service long ago.  Yet, the healer paid his ailment heed and brought him to his cart.

  When Efram walked away it was in delight. His leg was straight and did not pain him.  It was the remark of the watching stableman that caught their attention. “I saw that healing – and not a chant or word did he sing! It’s was unnatural I tell you! Stay away from that one, I’s warns you!”

  Everyone knew that elfblooded healers had to sing their spells – or at least mutter some words of power. That this one did not bespoke of a powerful talisman at his beck, and talismans of power brought a great price in the city.

The healer and the two midwives companioning him asked if there was an inn that they might spend the night. The watcher scurried off to see a proper plan set in motion. The healer would soon be parted from his piece of magery.

#

Balfour sneezed. To say that their accommodations were poor was an understatement.  The place was damp and mold covered the walls. That the tavern master asked no questions of his guests made it attractive. They had barely settled when the foul fellow knocked at the door with a silkily dressed youngster. “Ah, Master Elf, thought you might enjoy – for but a

pittance more this night – someone to keep you warm.”

  Cle’or hissed and readied to put in knife in the man’s gut.

  His gaze gone cold, Balfour glanced at the youngster, who dared not meet his eyes as the tavern––keeper urged her closer. She winced at his touch and her pain was evident. Balfour cleared his throat; the child was hurt and he could not ignore his vows to help those in need. He scrupled a couple of copper coins and the man beamed with pleasure, shoving the girl forward.

  Cle’or slammed the door shut as the girl trembled, then limped toward the straw mattress.

Balfour looked at Me’oh, who approached her cautiously, “Have no fear, child. We intend you no ill. Now just let me have a quick look at your hurts.”

  The girl’s eyes were wide as the older woman gently looked beneath her silk robe and saw her welts. “I’ve a salve that might help some.” The other marks would take some of Balfour’s skills.

  When the youngster realized that they were truly helping her, she curled up and began to sob.

The offered “pleasure” knelt huddled in Me’oh’s lap. How old she was Balfour could not yet guess. However, she was not malnourished. The tavern––keeper had fled promising them that they would not be disturbed further.

  “Well, what do you plan for us to do with her?” Balfour asked as he began to concentrate on the necessary healing. The bruises quickly began to fade.

  “Where is your family, child?” Me’oh asked ever so softly.

  She violently shook her head, “Please, no.”

  “You don’t want to go back to them?”

  She trembled so. “Can’t...  They sold me.”

  “Slavery is illegal in the Empire,” Balfour averred. “You are free.”

  “Free to starve?”

  He sighed, “Things are as bad as all that?”

  “The Tane taxed us and taxed us... We came to Lyai hoping… hoping…” she sobbed more loudly. “But there are few jobs here.”

  “Well, you are safe with us for now,” Me’oh swore. “Now rest while the

healer works on you.”

  The girl stared at her arm, feeling the pain fade. She heard no healing chant from the elfblood, “Are you a… Faeryn healer?”

  Balfour laughed. “There is no such thing, child. Anyway, this is a trade secret,” he muttered back.