Juliet E. McKenna - Einarinn 4 - The Warrior's Bond

CHAPTER ONE

The Sieur's Frontispiece to the D'Olbriot Chronicle, as Written by Messire

Guliel in His Own Hand at This Winter Solstice, Concluding

the Second Year of Tadriol the Provident

There are years when I swear it takes me as long to compose this short summary

of notable events as it does for all the clerks and archivists, the stewards

and chamberlains to abridge their ledgers and records for the posterity of the

House. There have been times when I wonder if any Sieur in later generations

will even read my carefully chosen words detailing important alliances,

significant births or sorely mourned deaths. This year and last, my fear is

that some future guardian of D'Olbriot's interests will treat my record with

the same amused condescension I have been wont to feel when reading the more

fanciful entries made by my forebears.

But as a rational man I must accept I can do nothing to counter whatever

beliefs or prejudices might influence subsequent readers of this annal. By

that same token, I can only relate the startling dealings of this past year

and ask that my words be accepted as the unvarnished truth, on my oath as

Sieur of this House.

The first year of our new Emperor's reign concluded with the discovery of

islands far in the eastern ocean, inhabited by a race of men hostile to

Tormalin and backed by inimical magic entirely unlike conventional wizardry.

These men of the Ice Islands ~ or in their own tongue, Elietimm - were

pursuing some arcane purpose of their own that led them to attack vulnerable

members of this and other Names, robbing them of heirloom jewels and

artefacts. As this year opened, I was persuaded by Planir, Archmage of

Hadrumal, to assist his search for answers to this puzzle by granting him the

service of Ryshad Tathel, sworn to this House for ten years and more. Ryshad

had already done much to track these villians to their remote lair, as he

sought justice in my Name for a victim from our House. I also acceded to the

wizard's suggestion that I reward Ryshad with an ancient sword the Archmage

had recently returned to me.

Believe me as I declare here and for perpetuity that I had no notion what this

seemingly innocent gesture might demand of Ryshad. But as my honour binds me,

I confess I might have yet done the same, even had I known what would befall

him. My duty as Sieur of this House demands I must look to the wider interests

of all, even at severest cost to any one individual.

These Elietimm pursued Ryshad and the wizards he had been sent to protect,

seeking the sword I had given and other artefacts held by the mages. By some

foul connivance, the Elietimm encompassed Ryshad's enslavement by the

Aldabreshin, and it was only by virtue of his resourcefulness and courage that

the man escaped alive and whole from the savagery of those southern islands.

His first safe landfall beyond the Archipelago was regrettably the island of

Hadrumal. There, Planir determined the sword Ryshad carried held vital

knowledge, locked within it by archaic enchantments. I do not pretend to

understand by what means but the Archmage had learned that this blade and

other treasures sought by the brutal Elietimm had come from that supposedly

rich and fertile colony founded by Tormalin nobles in the final years of

Nemith the Last, and lost thereafter in the mists of the Chaos that toppled

the Old Empire.

Thus far I can picture your astonishment, unknown reader, but hereafter I am

concerned lest you dismiss my words as incredible. Do not; I charge you by

whatever beliefs you hold dear. There will be other records to attest to this,

as I have declared all that follows before the Convocation of Princes in my

capacity as Adjurist.

The information Archmage Planir retrieved by his magics led him and

mercenaries backed by D'Olbriot gold, carried on D'Olbriot ships, to the far

side of the ocean, where they found the long-buried ruins of that lost colony.

More astonishing yet, they discovered nigh on a thousand of those who had

crossed the ocean

in the distant past still living, if it could be called living, held in

ensorcelled sleep through all the generations that had intervened. Enchantment

was finally used in service of Tormalin blood to revive these unfortunates.

It is now clear that the Elietimm had been seeking these hidden sleepers

intent on their utter destruction, determined to claim this vast, unfettered

land. Seeing by whatever arcane means they had been outflanked, the Elietimm

attacked and Ryshad Tathel again distinguished himself as the first assault

was successfully driven off. Wizardly magic was also vital in countering fell

Elietimm enchantments, so, of necessity, I continue my association with

Planir. This will entitle me to call on his assistance, should any Elietimm

magic be used against Tormalin. I am also taking steps to have every ancient

record and archive of the House and the shrines under our protection searched

for lore that might explain the mysteries of Artifice. Knowledge of such

enchantments could prove critical in some as yet unforeseen struggle. When all

else fails, one must fight fire with fire.

At this close of the year, I am relieved beyond measure to state we have seen

no more ships come out of the north to harry coasts on either side of the

ocean. The sole surviving noble patron of the original colony is Temar,

Esquire D'Alsennin, and accordingly we are working closely with him. The

colonists are even now attempting to rebuild their livelihoods, and as soon as

the Spring Equinox brings surcease from winter's storms we will send them all

the assistance D'Olbriot can offer. However, it remains to be seen how close

our two realms can grow, given these ancients are still so dependent on

religious beliefs that we in this present generation have long since discarded

as superstition. I foresee it will fall to D 'Olbriot to guide these innocents

to a more rational understanding of the world and their place within it.

The Shrine of Ostrin, Bremilayne

9th of For-Summer in the Third Year of

Tadriol the Provident, Afternoon

It's raining darning needles out there.' That's what we say in Zyoutessela

when a summer storm brings fine, piercing rain sweeping in from the ocean.

Drizzle content to hang as mist on more sheltered shores is whipped by

merciless winds to sting skin and soak clothing, leaving a lingering chill

long after the sun has returned. Not that I had any concerns, watching the

weather's vagaries from a comfortable lodging high on a hill above the bustle

of the harbour.

'Do you get storms like these in Hadrumal, Casuel? You must face heavy weather

off the Soluran Sea.'

My companion acknowledged my remarks with a sour grunt as he snapped fingers

at a candle stand. The wicks flared with surprise at being called into

service, but the louring skies made the room too dim for reading. Today Casuel

was fretting over his almanac, a tide table and a recently acquired set of

maps. I suppose it made a change from the ancient tomes he'd been scouring for

the last two seasons, hunting hints of lost lore from one end of Toremal to

the other, garnering clues that might unravel the mysteries of the past. I

admired his scholarship, but in his place I'd have taken these few days to

draw breath, waiting to see if those on the ship we so eagerly anticipated

could supply some answers.

There was a rattle behind me. I turned to see Casuel had pushed aside my game

board. The trees of the Forest had toppled over to knock into apples thrushes

and pied crows, sending the little wooden birds skittering over the scarred

wooden surface. I held my peace; I didn't particularly want

to finish the game and Casuel wasn't going to learn anything from another

defeat to add to the three he'd already suffered. The wizard might be learned

in his abstract arts but he was never going to win a game of Raven till he

overcame the spine-lessness that inevitably hamstrung his hopelessly

convoluted plans.

I squinted into the gloom, trying to distinguish between the ripples in the

glass and the torrents of rain blurring the vista. Black squalls striped the

swags of grey cloud, dragging curtains of rain across the white-capped,

grey-green swells. 'Is that a sail?'

Casuel shot an accusing look at the timepiece on the mantelshelf. 'I hardly

think so. It's barely past the sixth hour and we don't expect them before the

evening tide.'

I shrugged. 'I don't suppose they expected Dastennin would send a storm to

push them on.' That darker shape in the turmoil of the water was too regular

to be shadow or swell. That fluttering white was too constant to be

wind-driven spume. Was it the ship we'd spent two days of idle comfort

awaiting? I took up the spyglass I'd bought that morning, one of the finest

instruments the skilled seafarers of the eastern shore could supply. Opening

the upper light of the window, I steadied the leather-bound cylinder on the

sill, ignoring the flutter of paper riffled by an opportunist gust darting

inside.

'Saedrin's stones, Ryshad!' Casuel slapped at uncooperative documents, cursing

as his candles were snuffed.

I ignored him, sweeping the brass circle over the roiling surface of the sea.

Where was that fugitive shape? I checked back with my naked eye - there, I had

it! Not a coaster; an ocean ship, with steep sides, three masts and deck

castles fore and aft.

'Are there any ships due in from the south?' I asked Casuel, minutely

adjusting my glass to keep the tiny image in view.

Pages rustled behind me. 'No, nothing expected from Zyoutessela or Kalaven

until the middle of the season.'

'That's according to your lists?' I didn't share Casuel's faith in inked

columns of names and dates. My father may be a

mason but I'd known plenty of sailors growing up in Zyoutessela, an isthmus

city uniquely favoured by Dastennin with ports to both east and west. This

could well be some ship whose captain had risked a profitable if unscheduled

voyage. I find seafarers a curious mix of the bold and the cautious, men who

plan obsessively for every eventuality they might face once out of reach of

harbour but who throw caution to the winds to seize some unforeseen

opportunity winging past.

Casuel came to stand at my shoulder, a sheaf of documents in his hand. 'It

could be from Inglis.'

The metal ring cold in my eye stopped me from shaking my head. 'I don't think

so, not coming in on that course.' I leaned forward in a futile effort to see

some identifying flag.

'What is it?' Casuel demanded.

I was hissing through my teeth as my concern for the vessel grew. 'I think

they're carrying too much sail.' The masts were trimmed with the barest reef

of white, but even that was enough to let the winds make a plaything of the

ship. I looked up from the spyglass and out at the ocean. The captain's

choices were going from bad to worse. A run for the sheltering embrace of the

massive harbour wall would mean letting the storm batter broad on the beam,

with seas heavy enough to sink the ship. Turning the prow into the weather

risked being driven clear away from the safe anchorage. Taking his chances on

the open ocean might save the ship but the captain had wind and tide against

him and the Lord of the Sea hones this ocean coast to a razor's edge with the

scour of wind and water. I could see the unforgiving reefs tearing the rolling

waves into fraying skeins of foam beyond the sea wall. 'Dastennin grant them

grace,' I murmured.

Casuel raised himself on tiptoe to look out of the window where my few fingers

of extra height saved me the effort. A spatter of rain made him duck and look

through the lower pane, brushing wavy brown hair out of his dark eyes. I wiped

drops from the end of the spyglass and took a moment to study the sky.

Slate-coloured storm clouds threw down rain

to batter the bruised seas, crushing the crests of the waves into flat smears

of spume. I savoured the sharp salt freshness carried on the wind but then I

was safe ashore.

The bowsprit dipped deep into a mountainous sea, wrenching itself free a

breath later but the whole ship seemed to shudder, embattled decks awash.

Imagination supplied the cries of the panicked passengers inside my head,

curses from hard-pressed crew, the groan of straining timber, the insidious

sound of water penetrating stressed seams. Pale canvas went soaring away from

the masts like fleeing seabirds. The captain had opted to cut loose his sails

but the ocean was fighting him on every side now, contrary wind and current

confusing rudder and keel.

'Are they going to sink?' the wizard asked in a hesitant voice.

'I don't know.' My knuckles were white on the spyglass, frustration hollow in

my gut. 'You said there'd be a mage on board. Can't you bespeak him, work with

him somehow?'

'Even assuming this is the colonists' ship, my talents are based in the

element of earth,' said Casuel with habitual pomposity. 'At this distance, my

chances of influencing the combined power of air and water that such a storm

would generate . . .' His voice tailed off with honest regret.

The storm-tossed ship slid across my field of view and I cursed as it escaped

me. Looking up, I exclaimed with inarticulate surprise. 'There's another one.'

Casuel scrubbed crossly at glass fogged by his breath. 'Where?'

'Take a line from the roof of the fish market and out past the end of the

harbour wall.' I turned my glass on the newcomer and frowned. 'They're rigged

for fair weather.'

'They can't be,' said Casuel with arbitrary authority.

'I'm the one with the spyglass, Casuel.' I forced myself to keep my tone mild.

Irritating he might be, but I had to work with the wizard and that meant

civilized manners from me, even if Casuel couldn't manage common courtesy.

Time enough for idle thoughts later. I focused on the

second boat, a round-bellied coastal craft with triangular sails plump and

complacent when it should have been fighting for its life in those surging

seas. Heedless of raging swells fighting to ram it on to the rocks, it was

sweeping serenely towards the harbour.

'Oh.' Casuel's tone was heavy with displeasure.

'Magic?' I hardly needed mystical communion with the elements to realise that,

when I could see the ship defying all sense and logic.

'An advanced practitioner,' Casuel confirmed with glum envy.

I looked for some telltale of magic, a crackle of blue light or a ball of

unearthly radiance clinging to the masthead. Deep-water sailors talk of such

things, calling it the Eye of Dastennin. There was nothing to see; perhaps

this unknown wizard considered it enough to set the ship riding high in the

water, untouched by the storm.

I looked back abruptly to the first vessel, now heeling dangerously. It had

moved a full length or more closer to the seething rocks, its plight ever more

perilous. As we watched, helpless, a great wave plunged over the deck, the

waist of the ship vanishing completely, deck castles alone resisting the

insatiable seas. We held ourselves motionless until the ship struggled up to

ride the surface once more. But now it had a dangerous list; cargo must have

shifted in the hold, and that had been the death of many a crew.

'They're going to help.'

The breath came easier in my chest as I realised Casuel was right. The little

coastal vessel veered toward the reefs.

'Dast's teeth!' I took an involuntary step backwards as lightning split the

darkness like a rip in the very fabric of the sky. A shimmering spear lanced

down to the mast of the struggling vessel and I expected to see the burning

blue-white light set ropes and spars ablaze, but the incandescent arc floated

free from the clouds, reaching over to the bobbing coast boat and fastening

itself to the stern. The ocean ship was pulled up short with a visible jerk,

prow wheeling round like some

toy tugged by exuberant hands. For an instant it seemed storm and sea froze in

mutual amazement. I watched with equal astonishment. The ocean ship should

have been pulling the coast boat in to share its doom on the saw-edged reefs

but the magic was proof against the pull of the bigger vessel. The little

vessel barely slowed its pace towards the harbour, triangular sails

full-bellied and ignoring winds that should have ripped them to rags.

Casuel made a sudden grab for my spyglass, making me bring it up so fast I

nearly blacked my own eye. In the brass circle I saw figures emerge on to the

sodden decks of the ocean ship, even at this distance their gestures eloquent

of bewilderment and relief. A flash of green and gold defied the

all-encompassing grey of the storm as a pennon was run up the foremast. The

lynx's mask was no more than a yellow blur above the chevron, but the ancient

pattern of the D'Olbriot insignia was plain enough to me.

I slapped Casuel on the shoulder. 'It's them! Let's get down to the dock.'

Rival emotions jostled my thoughts. Relief for the sake of all on board barely

masked hollow realisation that all Messire's current ambitions had nearly been

sunk along with the vessel. Then I would have lost all, committed to the

Sieur's service for no hope of the reward that had persuaded me to renew my

oath to the House. Elation crowded out such pointless worry. The ship and its

precious passengers were here. Now I could promote my patron's interests in

good conscience, while also settling those obligations that touched my honour.

Once such debts were settled on either hand, I could hope for future

independence with Livak at my side. Exhilaration carried me as far as the door

before I realised Casuel was still standing at the window, arms crossed over

his narrow chest and with a scowl so black it threatened to tangle his brows

in his hair.

'Come on,' I urged. 'They may need help.'

Casuel sniffed. 'Any mage who can wield that kind of power is going to have

little use for my assistance.'

There's a widely held belief in Tormalin that wizards are

so air-headed they're no earthly use. Casuel confirmed this more thoroughly

than any other mage I'd met. Before Messire's command and Dastennin's whim had

tangled me up in these arcane complexities, I'd had no cause to meet mages.

Like most folk, I vaguely assumed studying the mysteries of magebirth

conferred wisdom, as always seemed the case in ancient tales. In reality I'd

not met anyone quite so small-minded as Casuel since the dame-school where I

learned my letters. Always fretting over what other people might think of him,

suspicious that he was never given his due, he was a tangled mess of petty

ambition. I'd been born to a family of no-nonsense craftsmen, and had chosen a

life among soldiers in service to a noble House, so I'm used to men

straightforward to the point of bluntness and confident in acknowledged

skills. Casuel tested my patience sorely.

But he's a dedicated scholar, I reminded myself, a talent you can't claim.

Just as important, Casuel was Tormalin born and bred, so knew and respected

the ranks and customs of our country, which undoubtedly made him the most

fitting wizard to act as link between Hadrumal and Toremal. It was just a

shame he wasn't easier to work with.

'We're here to greet the Kellarin colonists on behalf of the Sieur and the

Archmage, aren't we?' I held the door open. These past few seasons shepherding

Casuel around the byways and bridleways of Tormalin in search of ancient tomes

buried in ancestral libraries had taught me that arguing simply set the wizard

digging in his expensive boot heels. Calm assumption of his cooperation soon

had him picking up his cloak, grumbling under his breath as he followed me.

I drew my own cape close as we stepped out of the superior guest house into

the extensive grounds of Ostrin's shrine. The flighty wind snatched at my hood

and I let it fall back rather than struggle to keep my head dry as Casuel was

doing. The porter at the main gate opened the postern for us with a friendly

smile to lighten his grimace as he left his sheltered niche. The wind slammed

the heavy oak behind us.

Catching Casuel by the arm, I pulled him out of the path

of a sled skittering down the hill on gleaming metal runners. We placed our

feet on the slick blue cobbles with care but locals ran down the notoriously

steep streets of Bremilayne with the practised abandon of goats from the

mountains rising up behind the city. Rain poured from the slate-hung eaves of

houses stepped on foundations obstinately defying the slope, the door of one

often nigh on a level with the upstairs windows of its neighbour. The

wider-spaced houses of the upper town gave way to cramped and dirty lanes. By

the time we emerged on to the broad sweep of the quayside, a crowd was

assembling, drawn from unsavoury harbour taverns. Dockers were eager to earn

their ale money unloading the new arrivals, hawkers and whores keen to take

any advantage. I forced a way through those just avid for spectacle and Casuel

scurried close behind me.

'I've never seen the like, not magic used like that.' One man spoke across me,

awe mixed with uncertainty.

'And won't do again, I'd say,' agreed his friend, sounding relieved.

'I'll grant it was novelty enough but if they'd gone down, we'd have had some

wreck-sale.' A third was looking with greedy eyes at the tilted masts of the

ocean ship. 'Think of the salvage that would have washed ashore.'

I elbowed the would-be scavenger gull aside. With the list on the ship still

severe, the crew and dockers were fighting to secure sodden ropes running

slick and uncooperative round battered bollards. I wrenched on my own gloves

and added my weight to steady a hawser that two men were struggling-to make

safe. 'Casuel! Lend a hand, man!'

The double-headed bollards lining the quayside suddenly glowed and amber light

crackled in the air, startling profanity from the man beside me. I clutched

the cable in surprise myself; I hadn't intended Casuel use magic. Immobile

metal twisted and ducked beneath the ropes, black iron arms questing blindly

then looping themselves round the straining hemp before drawing back to stand

upright once more. Reeled in like a gaffed fish, the great ship lurched,

rolling upright to

smack hard into the side of the dock with a crash that reverberated round the

harbour. The vessel shivered from bow to stern with an ominous sound of

splintering.

'Nice work, Cas!' I dropped the rope and hurried along the quay, scanning the

crowded deck. 'Temar!' A sparely built young man by the stern castle looked

round at my hail, acknowledging me with a brief wave. 'We need to get your

people off, quick as you can.' The ship hung low and unbalanced in the water

and the damage Casuel had just done might finish what the storm had started.

Cargo could be recovered from the bottom of the harbour but I didn't want to

be dragging the dock for bodies.

A gangplank was hastily thrown out from the ship's rail but a flare of golden

radiance sent the dockers reaching for it recoiling in surprise. I turned to

see Casuel gesturing at the hovering wood, face pinched with pique. A path

instantly cleared between the mage and the ship and the crowd around Casuel

thinned noticeably.

Temar ignored the last remnants of magelight fading from the gangplank as he

hurried down to me. 'Ryshad!'

'I thought we were going to be fishing you out of the rock pools.' I gripped

his forearm in the archaic clasp he offered, noting that his fingers were no

longer the smooth white of the idle noble but almost as weathered and

calloused as my own.

His grip on my own arm tightened involuntarily and I felt the pressure of

muscles hardened by work. 'When that last wave hit, I did wonder if we would

surface on some shore of the Otherworld. Dastennin be thanked we made landfall

safely.' The accents of ancient Tormalin were still strong in Temar's voice

but I heard more modern intonations as well, mostly Lescari. I looked up to

the ship to recognise various mercenaries who'd chosen to stay on the far side

of the ocean after the previous year's expedition had discovered the long lost

colony of the Old Empire. They were getting the people off the vessel as fast

as they could.

'Dastennin?' Casuel came up, frowning as he struggled to

understand Temar. 'Tell him he has modern magecraft to thank rather than

ancient superstition.' Casuel had been born to a Tormalin merchant family and

this wasn't the first time I'd heard echoes of his Rationalist upbringing. It

must cause him some confusion, I thought with amusement, since that philosophy

denounces elemental magic just as readily as it reviles religion.

'Casuel Devoir, Temar D'Alsennin,' I made a belated introduction hastily.

'Esquire.' Casuel swept a bow worthy of an Emperor's salon. 'Your captain was

relying on his own seafaring skills? I thought it was clearly understood an

ocean crossing can only be safely managed with magical assistance.'

'Quite so.' Temar bowed in turn with a deference to the wizard nicely combined

with hauteur. 'And one of your colleagues was performing admirably until he

took a fall that broke both his legs.' Fleeting disdain in Temar's ice blue

eyes gave the lie to the measured politeness of his words. He indicated a

figure being carried down the gangplank by two burly sailors, injuries solidly

splinted with spars and canvas.

'I'm sorry?' Casuel spared his injured colleague a scant glance. 'Please speak

more slowly.'

I decided to turn the conversation to less contentious matters. 'When did you

cut your hair?'

Temar ran a hand over the short crop that replaced the long queue I'd last

seen him with, hair as black as my own but straight as a well rope.

'Practicality is now the watchword of Kel Ar'Ayen. Fashion is a luxury we

cannot yet afford.' I was glad to see a smile of good-humoured self-mockery

lightened the severity of his angular features.

'We'd better get this lot under lock and key, Temar, over yonder.' I pointed

to the warehouse I'd bespoken when we first arrived in Bremilayne. Sodden

sacks and battered casks were being swung on to the dock in capacious slings,

stacked anyhow as everyone hurried to lighten the stricken vessel. I caught an

avid expression on more than one onlooker's face.

'I will direct the men aboard ship.' Temar returned to the gangplank without

further ado.

'I'd better see to whoever that mage is,' Casuel said hastily as he watched

the injured man being lifted on to a litter.

'Absolutely.' Casuel could deal with wizardly concerns and I'd see to my own

responsibilities. Noticing D'Olbriot insignia on the cloak of a thickset new

arrival by the lofty warehouse, I hurried over and ushered the man inside the

shelter of the echoing building, speaking without preamble.

'This arrival's going to be the talk of the taverns, so who do we have to

secure the place if the wharf rats come sniffing around?' I ran fingers

through my hair to shed the worst of the rain, damp curls clinging tight to my

fingers.

'I've a double handful of newly recognised and four sworn and loyal.' The

man's grizzled and wiry hair ran unbroken into a full beard framing a

prominent nose and bulbous eyes, leaving him looking like an owl peering out

of an ivy bush. 'Sorry we're so behind hand. We'd have been here day before

yesterday if a horse hadn't gone lame.'

'It's Glannar, isn't it, from the Layne Valley holdings?' His rich, rolling

voice helped me place him, sergeant-at-arms to those most isolated holdings of

the House of D'Olbriot.

The man's face creased into a ready grin. 'You've the advantage of me. I

recall you came up when we had that trouble in the shearing sheds but I can't

put a name to you.'

'Ryshad.' I returned his smile. 'Ryshad Tathel.'

'Done well by the House, I hear,' Glannar observed with a glance at the shiny

copper circling my upper arm. He spoke with the self-assurance of a man who'd

earned chosen status long enough since to let his own arm ring grow dull with

the years.

'No more than staying true to my oath.' I kept my tone easy. Glannar was only

making conversation, not fishing for secrets or better yet salacious detail,

like some I'd met since half-truths about my adventures in the Archipelago had

escaped Messire's orders for discretion. 'You've got your lads well drilled?'

I'd spent my share of time training raw

recruits with wits blunter than a plough handle.

Glannar nodded. 'They're lead miners' sons, all bar one, so won't stand any

nonsense. We'll keep this lot safe as a mouse in a malt heap.'

'Good.' I turned my head as the great doors swung open to let a row of wet and

laden dockers enter. I curbed an impulse to shed my cloak and make myself

useful; getting my hands dirty wouldn't have been appropriate to my shiny new

rank or to Glannar's consequence as sergeant-at-arms hereabouts. So I watched

as he sent the sworn men about their business with brisk gestures. They in

turn were visibly diligent in organising the recognised men, lads newly come

to the service of the House, on the lowest rung of the ladder and keen to

prove themselves worthy of invitation to swear the oath binding them to

D'Olbriot interests.

I watched the well-muscled youths set to with a will. I'd sworn that same

ancient oath with fervent loyalty and believed in it with all my heart until

the events of the last year and a half had shaken my faith to its roots. I had

come within a whisker of handing back my oath fee and abandoning my allegiance

to the Name, believing the House had abandoned me. Then reward had been

offered, the rank of chosen man as recompense for my anguish, and I had taken

it, more than a little uncertain but not sure enough of my other choices to

abandon what I'd known for so long. But I had taken other obligations on

myself as well, where once my oath had left no room for other loyalties.

Glannar's genial commands rang to the rafters behind me as I went out. The

rain was slackening but the sky stayed grey and sullen. About as sullen as

Casuel, who was standing in the meagre shelter of the dockside hoist being

addressed by a tall figure wrapped in a bright blue cloak. I let a burdened

sled scrape past over the cobbles before making my way over.

'Ryshad Tathel, this is Velindre Ychane, mage of Hadrumal.' Casuel looked as

if he were sucking a lemon. 'Her affinity is with the air, as you've no doubt

guessed. It was her on the other ship.'

'My lady.' I bowed low. 'We are deep in your debt.' I doubted Casuel had shown

any gratitude but the House of D'Olbriot owed this woman a full measure of

thanks, and for good or ill I was its representative here.

'It's lucky you were there,' chipped in Casuel.

'Luck had nothing to do with it.' She made a plain statement of fact out of

words that could so easily have been arrogance, rebuke or both. 'I've been

making a study of the air currents off the Cape of Winds this past half-year.

When I heard Esquire D'Alsennin would arrive around the middle of the season,

I decided to work our way up the coast. I scried his ship as well as the

likely impact of the storm and thought it best that we make landfall together.

Given Urlan's accident, it's as well we did.' She addressed me directly,

leaving Casuel tugging impatiently at the ties of his cloak. Her voice was low

and a little husky, as self-assured as her stance. For all her Mandarkin name,

the regular accents of Hadrumal were unshaded by any older allegiance and I

guessed she had been born on that distant, secretive island.

'You want to meet Temar? Esquire D'Alsennin, that is?' This was setting a new

piece on a game board already well into play. I'd want to know more about this

unknown lady before letting her loose among the complex concerns of the colony

and the House I served, whatever Casuel might have to say about the

unquestioning cooperation a mage was entitled to as of right.

'When he has leisure from more pressing matters.' Velindre's smile lent a

sudden feminine air to her almost mannish features. She would never be

considered a beautiful woman but her striking appearance would halt any eye

and that impact would outlast more conventional charms. A few wisps of fine

blonde hair escaped the confines of her hood and she brushed them away from

pale lashed hazel eyes. 'So you are Ryshad,' she mused. 'I've heard a lot

about you.'

I decided to match her directness. 'From whom?'

'Initially, from Otrick.' As she spoke sadness seemed to

darken the heavy storm clouds above us. 'Latterly from Troanna.'

'What has Troanna to do with your studies?' Casuel was fidgeting from one foot

to another anxious lest someone else's manoeuvrings escape him.

'She's been keeping me supplied with all the news from home, Cas,' answered

Velindre easily. 'Shall I tell her you were asking after her?'

Casuel blinked, caught off balance. I've yet to fully understand the formal

and informal ranks and authorities of the wizards of Hadrumal, the ill-defined

and often overlapping functions of their Council and their Halls, but I knew

enough to know Casuel wouldn't want the acerbic wit of Troanna, acknowledged

as pre-eminent in water magic, sharpened up at his expense. If Cloud-Master

and Flood-Mistress kept her informed, Velindre had powerful friends.

'How might Esquire D'Alsennin be of assistance?' I asked politely.

Velindre smiled again. 'He's crossed the ocean and sailed unknown shores with

currents and winds that no mage has ever sensed. No wizard ever passes up the

chance of new knowledge.'

Which was certainly true, but if that was the whole story I was a Caladhrian

pack mule.

'I'll see if we can accommodate you,' said Casuel with fussy self-importance.

Velindre's eyes hardened, and I thought for a moment she was about to

challenge his pretensions, but a new arrival spared him any rebuke.

'Mage Devoir.' The newcomer bobbed a nervous curtsey that edged the hem of her

rose pink dress with the muck of the dockside.

'Allin?' Casuel sounded both surprised and displeased.

'You're entitled to call him Casuel, just like anyone else,' said Velindre

drily. 'So how is Urlan?'

The girl Allin looked up, blushed and dropped her gaze to study her folded

hands intently. 'Both legs are broken and the

bosun was saying he'd seen splinters of bone through the skin of his right

shin. He's been taken to the infirmary at the shrine.' Where Velindre was

scarcely shorter than me, Allin barely came up to Casuel's shoulder. Even

allowing for the heavy cape bunched round her, I guessed her figure would be

as round as her plain snub-nosed face. But her boot-button eyes were bright

with intelligence and good nature, attributes lacking in many a prettier girl.

'Do you have lodgings arranged?' I asked.

'The man from the shrine said we could probably stay there as well.' The girl

peeped up at me from beneath her dun-coloured fringe. Her Tormalin was fluent

but of unmistakable Lescari origin.

'If there's any difficulty, refer it to me. We're in the upper guest house,'

said Casuel officiously.

'We'll join you there for dinner.' Velindre turned on her heel with a final

smile and before Casuel could shut his protesting mouth her long stride took

her out of earshot.

'So who's she?' I asked the wizard.

Outrage was slow to fade from his well-made features. 'Velindre is a mage of

some standing in Hadrumal but she's always claimed to prefer focusing on her

studies rather than engaging herself with the wider concerns of wizardry.'

I wondered just where the sneer in his tone was directed but decided his

prejudices weren't worth pursuing. 'So she hasn't been privy to any of

Planir's intrigues over the last year or so?'

Casuel bridled. 'I hardly think intrigue is the right word for the necessary

care Planir takes of Hadrumal's interests.'

'Could you bespeak the Archmage, please? To let him know she's here and

apparently interested in the colony.' I made my request with a politeness

calculated to soothe Casuel's ruffled feathers.

'I was intending to do so, naturally.' Of course Casuel had been planning to

tell Planir about Velindre; telling tales was another dame-school habit I'd

observed in the man over the past half-year. 'I wonder if he knows Troanna's

been in touch with her.'

'Shall we do it now? Planir might have an opinion on Velindre's reasons for

being here, and he'll certainly want to know what's happened to Urlan.' I

wanted all my birds in a row before I encountered Velindre again and there was

little enough for me to do here.

'Yes, I should see what news the Archmage has for us, shouldn't I? Let's get

out of this rain.' Those notions sent the wizard scurrying eagerly up the

hill, clutching the hood of his cloak tight beneath his handsome chin.

Once we were back in the guest house chamber he'd appropriated as a study,

Casuel set about his wizardry. I'd seen him work various spells over the last

season or so, and, oddly, he was at his least objectionable when working

magic. The wizard took a seat at the table, setting a steel mirror on the

table with a candle before it, lighting the wick with a snap of his fingers

and a flourish of the lace at his cuffs. He laid his hands flat on the

chestnut wood, eyes fixed unblinking on the reflected flame of the candle

I sat in a corner, content to watch and listen; Casuel could do the talking.

What I wanted was Planir, who presumably had the power to curb this Velindre,

told of her arrival here, just in case she had some private ambition that

might threaten all I was working for. I had no reason to suspect her, but then

again no reason to trust her. I didn't particularly trust Planir either,

having suffered the charming ruthlessness of Hadrumal's Archmage on my own

account, but I knew he would always defend his own interests and for the

moment those marched in step with mine and those of the House of D'Olbriot.

The candle flame burned yellow then darkened to a bloody orange, the colour

tainting the reflection. Shimmering across the mirror, magic began to slowly

revolve like water stirred with a rod. Where a hollow might have appeared in

swirling liquid, a hole in the very fabric of the air spread across the metal

surface, elements yielding to the arcane influence of the mage-born. Casuel

was frowning, jaw set in utter concentration, the barest movement of light

reflecting from a gold ring on one taut finger. Even after all the times I'd

seen Casuel do

this, I felt my spine tense at such an inexplicable manipulation of the

natural order.

An image appeared in the mirror, magic reflecting the Archmage sat at a table

in his study. I recognised it from my own unwilling visit to Hadrumal, a room

of elegant furnishings and deadly purpose. Some instinct lifted his dark head

and he looked directly across the countless leagues down through Casuel's

spell, fine black brows lifted in surprise. 'Yes?'

'The colonists have arrived,' said Casuel, speaking rather rapidly. 'They had

trouble making landfall because Urlan injured himself in a fall.'

'Badly?' Planir leaned forward, face intent. 'Have you seen him?'

'Not yet, it's his legs you see, he's been taken to the infirmary.' Casuel

sounded like a slack apprentice trying to excuse himself to my father.

Small in the mirror, the Archmage's image nodded abruptly before gesturing in

unmistakable dismissal. 'Go and see him for yourself and then bespeak me again

at once.' My father had no time for underlings coming to him with tales of a

task half done either.

Casuel cleared his throat. 'Velindre arrived in Bremilayne on the same tide.

It seems she's eager to speak to D'Alsennin.'

'Is she?' Planir's tone was noncommittal, but even at this distance I could

see his lean face was unsmiling.

Casuel was nonplussed. 'So what should I do? What should I say to her?'

Giving her some credit for saving the stricken ship would be a good start, I

thought silently.

'You make the introductions she seeks.' Planir sounded faintly surprised that

Casuel needed to ask. 'And you make note of her questions, whom she asks them

of and the replies she receives. Then you tell me.'

Casuel preened himself visibly at the idea of being thus taken into the

Archmage's confidence. It looked more like a fool's naivety being used against

him to me as Planir's mouth curved like the merciless smile of a shark.

'Is she seeking some advancement?' persisted Casuel. 'She always says mastery

of her element is more important than rank within the halls or recognition by

the Council.' His bemusement was plain; that someone might disdain the status

that he so ineffectually craved.

I heard Planir drum his fingers on the table in an uncharacteristic betrayal

of tension. 'I've heard her name mentioned as a possible candidate for

Cloud-Mistress,' he said lightly. 'I'd be interested if she were to say

Juliet E. McKenna - Einarinn 4 - The Warrior's Bond

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