The Assassin's Edge (Einarinn 5) (69 page)

“It was worth a try.” Sorgrad grinned, unrepentant.

I was watching ’Gren blithely whirling the dark-haired girl around. “It really doesn’t bother him, does it?”

“How am I supposed to take a drink with everyone giving me things to hold?” Sorgrad frowned at the cups and bottle in his hands. “What? No, you know ’Gren. There’s no future in looking at the past, that’s what he says.”

“A sound philosophy as far as it goes,” I allowed. “But a little forward planning doesn’t come amiss.”

“Words to warm Ryshad’s heart,” mocked Sorgrad.

I still wasn’t biting. “His father’s a mason, ’Grad. Making plans means the building won’t come tumbling down around your ears.” Everything had so nearly crashed to ruin around all of us. It was high time I went back to a life where the biggest risks were marked by the roll of the runes and the weight of your purse.

“Where is he?” Sorgrad scanned the lively scene by the water. “You’d best go and find him, let him know there’s food for the eating.”

“Don’t drink all the good wine.” I looked but couldn’t find Ryshad among the dancing or the hungry throng gathering by the fires.

“Try the shrine,” Sorgrad suggested.

The Island City of Hadrumal,

29th of For-Summer

The full heat of the afternoon beat down on Hadrumal’s roofs, striking motes of silver from stone slates and turning masonry beneath to warm gold. Planir stood at his window looking down at the bustling courtyard below. Apprentices hurried about the errands they’d been given by their masters. Mages elevated to the status of pupil walked more slowly back to their lodging, weighed down with carefully cherished dignity and the substantial books many carried. Styles of dress and a general predilection for elemental colours were common to all but cut and quality of cloth inevitably distinguished those born to greater wealth whose families refused to let the accident of magebirth divide them.

In plainer clothes and oblivious to the lofty concerns of wizards, the ordinary folk of Hadrumal came and went; laundresses, maidservants, apprentice boys fetching and carrying so that no mundane distractions need divert those with the privilege of affinity from studying their arcane calling.

Planir watched, face cold. When a knock sounded at his door, he didn’t stir. “Enter.”

Usara came into the room. “Archmage.” He wore everyday breeches in washed-out maroon and a full-sleeved shirt under a buff jerkin with bone buttons. Both had been cut for a man thicker in the waist and broader in the shoulders. He carried a plain leather bag slung over one shoulder by a braided strap.

“ ’Sar.” Planir still didn’t move. “I heard you were back.”

“Just for a day or so. I had some things to bring you.” Usara moved to the table, empty surface glossy with diligent polishing. The whole room was bright as a pin, neat as new paint. “This letter for one.”

That turned Planir’s head. “From whom?”

Usara winced at the apprehension and hunger in the Archmage’s face. “Just from Temar.”

Planir managed a wintry smile. “What can I do for the Sieur D’Alsennin?”

“I suspect he wants your permission to wed Allin.” Usara set the sealed letter on the table. “He thinks you’re the one he should ask.”

Planir returned to gazing out of the window. “It’s always been an Archmage’s duty to care for those seeking learning and guidance from Hadrumal.” His voice was harsh with self-accusation.

Usara lifted a small copper urn out of his satchel, setting it on the table with gentle hands. The round-bellied vessel was bright with enamelled leaves and birds, mismatched lid secured with wax and cord.

Planir’s head turned involuntarily at the slight sound. “Larissa?”

“She saved countless lives.” Sorrowful, Usara looked at the urn. He reached into the neck of his shirt and pulled a cord over his head. The silver ring was knotted securely on to it. “We’d never have been able to use Artifice and wizardry together without this and we couldn’t have saved those women from Olret.”

“Which, as Archmage, I should of course be glad for.” Planir turned back to the window. “Forgive me. As yet I cannot appreciate the wider benefits of losing the woman I loved to a horrible death.”

“Halice gave us the urn. It seems she’s always carried one, reckoning she’d be killed sooner or later.” Usara set the ring down on the table. “Temar wants to name one of the Suthyfer islands for Larissa. We’ve built a shrine and she’ll be remembered with honour if that’s where her ashes rest.” He hesitated. “I thought you might want her here, though. It’s for you to say.”

“My last duty as her Archmage?” Pain cracked Planir’s sarcasm.

“Your right as her lover,” said Usara quietly.

“Is that all?” asked the Archmage curtly.

“No.” Usara ran a hand over his non-existent hair. “Forgive me but I asked Kalion and Troanna to join us.”

Planir glared at him. “Just to make my day complete.”

Usara squared his narrow shoulders. “I have things to tell you all, in your capacities as Archmage and Element Masters.”

“Have you now?” A spark of interest struggled through the grief darkening Planir’s grey eyes. “That Kalion’s dream of closer ties with Imperial Tormalin is to be realised now Temar’s realised little Allin’s loved him for the better part of a year?”

Usara coloured beneath his sandy beard. “I also have hopes of marrying into that House.”

“Do you?” Planir managed a faint smile. “Guinalle has accepted you?”

“I haven’t exactly asked her,” Usara admitted. “Not as yet.”

“Temar’s her legal overlord.” Planir moved to the high-backed chair by the fender and waved Usara towards the other. “You’ll be asking his permission for her hand. Do you want me to tell him he can’t wed Allin if he turns you down?” The notion surprised the Archmage into a brief laugh.

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Usara looked shocked. “That Temar has rights in the matter, I mean.”

Hasty feet sounded on the stairs beyond the open door.

“Kalion’s on his way.” Planir settled himself with calculated care, nodding to Usara to do the same. “I didn’t think it would take him long.”

Usara did his best to assume the Archmage’s ease but tension kept his spine stiff as the poker in the empty hearth. As the silence in the room was broken only by the approaching footsteps, he grew pale with determination.

“Hearth Master, do come in.” Planir waved as Kalion reached the doorway, scarlet faced, his chest heaving. “Troanna, do take a seat.”

The Flood Mistress stalked past Kalion who was still getting his breath. Apart from high colour on her round face, she showed no sign of undue hurry. “Usara, a welcome surprise.” She took one of the upright chairs beside the table, glancing at the letter, the urn and the ring. Her face turned thoughtful.

Kalion dropped heavily down beside her. “Usara.” He paused to catch his breath again. “I should tell you, in all friendliness, that I have grave concerns about your fitness for office. I cannot, in all conscience, let your nomination pass to the Council without setting them out.”

Usara frowned, perplexed. “I beg your pardon?”

Kalion looked at Planir. “This is about the Stone Mastery?”

“You’d nominate me?” Usara was startled.

Planir smiled enigmatically. “Usara asked you here. It seems he has something to say to us all.” He shot Usara a look of challenge.

Usara lifted his chin. “I was not aware that I would even be considered as Stone Master but with all due respect—and considerable gratitude—I would have refused such an honour.”

“What?” exclaimed Kalion. He would have continued but for the combined effects of exertion and indignation.

Troanna slapped his arm. “Let him speak.”

“I have come to tell you that I will be staying in Suthyfer, as will Shiv and Allin.” Usara cleared his throat.

“Then we wish you well.” Troanna made as if to stand.

“And we will welcome any mage wanting to join us in studying elemental magic as well as Artifice.” Usara spoke a little faster than usual. “We wish to found a hall for the exploration of magic in all its forms. We’ll start by using our various skills to help build new settlements in Suthyfer and Kellarin. I will be spreading the word among the halls here before I leave.”

Kalion gaped. “I forbid it!”

“Forgive me, Hearth Master, but you have no right to do so.” Usara looked at Planir. “Nor, as far as I can tell, do we need your permission as such but we’d value your blessing.”

“It’s an Archmage’s duty to curb any excesses among wizardry,” said Kalion furiously. “If setting up some rival hall to Hadrumal isn’t excessive, I’d like to know what is!”

“Hush.” Troanna’s fingers tightened on Kalion’s arm hard enough to cut his words short. “Do you see your enterprise rivalling Hadrumal, Usara? With just you three and any malcontents you can convince to risk themselves?”

“Not at all, Flood Mistress. What we seek is rather to complement the learning here.” The mage waved a hand at the unseen halls and courts beyond the window. “There is such a burden of knowledge here that it can stifle new thinking. Any apprentice with a curious idea is more inclined to hunt through the libraries for some clue that someone tried it before, than to actually pursue the notion. If they find nothing to guide them in the accumulated lore of Hadrumal, all too often they abandon the idea altogether.”

“You think yourself wiser than all the mages whose lives spent in study have given you and your heedless friends the very skills to master your inborn magic?” Kalion was incensed.

“We wish to use those skills to add to the sum of wizardry,” retorted Usara. “Which cannot always be done when the weighty traditions of Hadrumal unfortunately smother initiative.”

“That’s a grave accusation,” said Troanna sternly. “What manner of initiative are we discussing? The insane depredations of some menace like Azazir?”

“Of course not,” Usara responded tightly.

“Can you show us a good idea coming to naught?” asked Planir mildly, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he relaxed in his chair.

Usara took a breath before continuing. “Consider Casuel, Archmage. When Temar and the Sieur D’Olbriot were assaulted last year, he blocked their attackers’ escape by making the vines of a carved stone gate grow to tangle their hands and feet. It was most impressive magic and I would dearly love to know how he worked it but he has no clear idea. Worse, he refuses to try it again without sanction from the records of some dead wizard to assure him that it’s safe.”

“You intend letting every wild idea run riot on these islands?” Troanna looked sternly at Usara. “Will you keep yourselves sufficiently far from D’Alsennin’s people so you don’t all go up in flames and confusion?”

“We will be taking every precaution against folly, Flood Mistress,” Usara said stiffly. “We’ll use all the safeguards so long proven here. We’re not turning our backs on Hadrumal, just taking a step away.”

Planir spoke just fast enough to stop Kalion’s intemperate response. “You make an interesting point about Casuel. He’s never really realised his potential, has he?” The Archmage looked from Kalion to Troanna. “He isn’t the first we’ve seen unhappily overawed by all the misbegotten, misinterpreted legends that hang round this place.”

“Casuel was twisted by his own inadequacies before he ever reached these shores,” snapped Kalion.

“Maybe so,” Planir allowed. “But who’s to say he might not have put those behind him if he didn’t feel surrounded by predecessors he doubted he could equal? What about Ely, Kalion? She holds back out of fear of failure.” He fixed the Hearth Master with a stern eye. “She’s an affinity as strong as any I’ve seen but busies herself rumour mongering and poisoning people’s lives with her gossip. To be fair, much as I dislike the girl, I simply don’t believe she’s cut out for debating the flaws and merits of theories. She might do far better with a freer rein to apply her abilities as suits her best.” His words were cutting. “Tell me, Troanna, how many apprentices have failed to measure up to your expectations or disappointed you by settling for the limited scope of a hedge mage’s life? I’ve seen far too many scurry off to some mundane town half a day from the high road because that’s what they grew up with and they couldn’t get used to the lofty halls and concerns of Hadrumal.”

“One is one too many,” said Troanna curtly. “I’ll grant you that.”

“You cannot sanction such a renegade enterprise,” cried Kalion. “I won’t allow it. The Council won’t allow it!”

“How will they stop it?” Planir queried mildly. “None of the precepts Trydek laid down for this place preclude mages establishing some other centre of study. None of those precepts entitle the Council to act against other mages. That’s the Archmage’s duty.”

“With the Council to guide him,” snapped Kalion.

“To make sure he isn’t tempted to a course of magical tyranny.” Planir nodded. “Forbidding ’Sar and Shiv’s attempt to broaden the scope of magical learning sounds uncomfortably like tyranny to me.”

“All mages are subject to Hadrumal’s authority.” Kalion glared at Usara.

“Which authority is based on consent, as you are so very fond of reminding me.” Planir sat straighter, looking severe. “If it is seen to be abused for no good reason, that consent will vanish like snow beneath hot sun. Where will wizardry be then?” He thrust a challenging finger at Kalion. “You’re so keen to see magic accepted in the wider world. Won’t seeing wizards helping folk with their everyday business ease the fears and superstitions than bedevil us? Powerful mages from a hidden isle visiting only to closet themselves with lords already holding power of life and death over them don’t exactly reassure the commonalty. I can see other advantages. Wizards at the centre of what promises to be a substantial trading network will very well placed to hear of discord or harmony among the powers of the mainland.”

Kalion struggled for a reply so Planir continued remorselessly.

“Not everyone’s cut out for the learning of Hadrumal but that doesn’t tarnish or devalue it. Study will always have its place, Kalion; I don’t think we need feel threatened by ’Sar’s new venture. In fact, it’ll prove a study in itself to keep the papermakers and bookbinders in work. Has Sannin talked to either of you two about her notion that capacity for mage-craft strengthens with its actual use? She’ll be fascinated to see what comes of ’Sar’s venture.” He glanced at Usara. “Rafrid and Herion will be interested to share a glass of wine with you before you go. They’re interested in exploring merging magic, in a formal nexus and in less structured workings. You and Shiv should share what you’ve learned, even if your workings have been largely luck and accident.” Planir’s tone was one of reproof but that didn’t please Kalion whose face showed suspicion still winning over indignation.