All the Paths of Shadow (44 page)

“I am no such thing.”

Tim whinnied again in laughter. “We shall soon see. Tirlin’s darkest hour is nearly upon us, Mage. Know that we who wore the robes before you stand at your side.”

“Can you render the curseworks harmless?”

Tim shook his long head side to side.

“We are but ghosts now,” he said. “That task is yours, and yours alone.”

Meralda sighed. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she said. Her voice shook. “I just don’t know.”

“I would be troubled if you said otherwise,” said Tim. “I, on the other hoof, have the utmost confidence in you, Mage.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” said Meralda. “This is pre-kingdom magic. It doesn’t make sense, half the time. It’s like trying to untie knots in the dark. I could fail as easily as not.” Meralda felt her face flush hot, and a sudden anger ran through her. “And you know what they’ll say? They’ll say I failed because I’m a woman. That will be my legend. Fool scrap of a girl let the kingdom burn.”

Tim nodded. “I felt much the same burden, so many times. The stuff of legends is nothing but trouble to the persons unfortunate enough to make them. On the whole, I’d rather have been off fishing.”

Meralda surprised herself by laughing.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you. You’re the reason I’m here, really.”

Tim bowed. “My apologies, then. It was never my intention to be a bad influence on the youth of Tirlin.”

“You’re exactly as I imagined.”

Tim stepped forward, his horse head swaying to and fro as though seeing who was close by.

“May I tell you a secret, Mage Meralda Ovis?”

“Please.”

Tim’s whiskery horse mouth tickled Meralda’s right ear.

“You’re not the first woman to wear the robes.”

“What?”

Tim’s horse head flashed, and when the light died, he—she—looked back at Meralda from a woman’s smiling face.

“I knew I’d never be named Mage as a woman, back in the bad old days of 1517,” she said. She looked down at her bosom ruefully and shrugged. “But it occurred to me that the robes would hide everything but my head and neck.”

“You’re not Tim?”

“Tam, actually. I even developed a taste for hay. Imagine that.” She ran fingers through her long brown hair. “Tam couldn’t even read for the college. Tim took the robes and saved the kingdom, more than once. What a difference a single letter makes. And a bit of magic.”

Meralda remembered to close her mouth.

“I’m not the only one, either. Brontus. Caplea. Sebrinal.”

Shapes stirred, stepped forward, waved.

“I’m the fifth woman to wear the robes?”

“We’re not sure about Abelt, and he or she won’t say. Fifth or sixth. But you’re the first who hasn’t hidden who you are.”

“I had no idea.”

“That’s rather the point. But see here, Mage. This business with the curseworks. Have you given any thought to how you might use them, to Tirlin’s advantage?”

“Use them? The only sane thing to do with them is keep them where they are. Isn’t it?”

“Indeed. They’re monstrous. Each an abomination. Combined? We’re not sure any of the Realms would survive their release.”

“Making them useless.”

“Not exactly,” said Tam. Her face was long and plain, but her eyes were merry and bright. “Often, I found that the perception of a thing was far more useful than the thing itself, if you get my meaning. Remember Covair?”

“You held off fifty thousand Vonats with a pair of silver wands.”

Tam’s eyes twinkled.

“Ten thousand, perhaps. The wands weren’t even silver. I painted a pair of sticks. I’d run right out of spells, Mage. I had a biscuit in my pocket and a knife in my boot. And not a single Vonat pikeman dared cross a line I scratched in the sand with my boot, just because I grinned at them and invited them to try.”

Meralda stared.

“That’s history for you, Mage. Half of it is misquotes and the other half is flummery. I enjoyed the flummery most of all. In fact, I highly recommend it. Am I being too mysterious?”

“You want me to use the curseworks to scare the Vonats into behaving themselves?”

“It’s just a suggestion. You’d have thought of it yourself, sooner or later. We just wanted to save you the time. Mage to mage, you know.”

Meralda’s mind raced.

“The curseworks? Weapons?”

Tam beamed. “Just so.” She took a step back, and her horse head reappeared.

“We wish you well, Mage Meralda Ovis,” said Tim, shaking his mane back into place. “Know that we are all very proud to call you sister.”

“Don’t go. Please, I have so many questions.”

“My time here is nearly spent, Mage. You face a dark hour. You will soon be forced to choose between power and stealth. Between might and wisdom. Between the easy way, and the hard. I do not envy you that.”

Tam raised a hand in salute. “Oh, aisle ten, shelf twenty-two, slot fifteen. A little something not in the Inventory. Better range than the speaking jewel you’re using now. And get yourself a new chair. That one will ruin your back.”

Before Meralda could speak again, she awoke, face down on her desk.

She bolted upright, found her arm asleep, her back aching.

Mug stirred restlessly on her desk, his eyes still closed and drooping. The Bellringers were gone, as was Donchen. Goboy’s glass was focused on the palace spire, which glowed in the first faint rays of dawn.

It was a dream,
she thought.
But was it just a dream?

Meralda rose, stiff and sore. Her pencil lay on her topmost page of notes, just where she’d dropped it. The paper was filled with diagrams and calculations and scribbled questions for which there were no good answers.

Something in the top right corner caught Meralda’s weary gaze.

A calculation had been crossed out and rewritten.

The hand wasn’t hers.

Below the revised equation was a note, penned in a tiny precise hand.

You dropped the Esrat variable there, Mage. I did the same thing when I was sleepy.

Below that was a T.

Meralda shivered.

“Thank you, Mage,” she said, aloud. “Thank you.”

“Crawling up the windowpanes, I don’t know,” mumbled Mug.

Meralda stroked his topmost leaves and shuffled toward the water closet.

At noon, Mug awoke.

“You see what trouble all this moving about brings, mistress,” he said, spreading his leaves to the sunlight pouring from Goboy’s glass. “Bruised stems, eyes gone missing.”

Meralda came running from the shelves, her hands full of holdstones and long silver wands.

“Mug!”

“Mistress!” Mug turned half a dozen eyes toward Meralda as she dumped the contents of her arms down on her desk and leaned over Mug’s bedraggled fronds. “How long have I been resting?”

“Two days.” Meralda stroked his leaves. “I was afraid you weren’t going to wake up at all.”

Mug gently wrapped Meralda’s wrist in a vine and squeezed. “You seem to have all your limbs. What of the lads? And Angis?”

“All fine. Donchen got the worst of us all, fighting those things in the sewer beneath us.”

“So I take it we won the day.”

Meralda nodded. “Nameless and Faceless appeared. I took them up. No more magical rope men.”

Mug turned more eyes toward Meralda. “They just swatted the nasties in a show of selfless goodwill, did they?”

“Something like that.”

Mug imitated a snort. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready, I suppose. The work on the tethers. Making progress?”

Meralda pulled back her chair and sat. “I think so.” She pushed wands and holdstones aside to reveal her latest set of notes and diagrams. “If you feel up to it, this is where I’m stuck.”

Mug sent eyes hovering over the paper, and was silent for a moment.

“Mistress. This is impressive. Tower thinks it will work?”

“Tower is cautiously optimistic,” said Tower from the glass. “Although it must be noted that the basic underpinnings of the mage’s theory are untested and, in fact, untestable.”

“Cheery as always,” said Mug. “Good to hear your voice again, though.”

“You were missed as well, Mug.” The Tower shifted the image in the mirror to avoid a shadow cast by an approaching dirigible.

Mug sighed happily in the fresh wash of sunlight.

“The Bellringers will want to say hello,” said Meralda. “They’ve been bringing you rainwater from a wooden cask out back, because they were convinced plants couldn’t possibly enjoy the taste of water from the tap.”

Mug chuckled. “I’ll be sure and thank them.” His eyes halted over Meralda’s notes. “T? Who is T? And what is he doing correcting your math?”

Meralda smiled. “Someone I dreamed up,” she said. “But never mind that now. We’ve got so much more to do.”

Back to the Tower,
thought Meralda.
This time, though, I won’t be caught unawares.

The army cleared the streets ahead and sealed them off behind, keeping Meralda’s armored pay master’s wagon well away from any other traffic. Two dozen mounted guards rode about her, swords drawn and gleaming, while an Army dirigible soared low overhead, ready to dispatch its soldiers via dropped lines at the first sight of trouble.

“Hello, mistress,” said Mug. “Can you hear me? Is this thing working?”

The trio of stern-faced palace guards seated across from Meralda looked warily about at the sound.

“What’s that?” asked one.

“It’s nothing,” replied Kervis. “It’s certainly not a voice.”

“What?” said Mug. “Speak up!”

“It’s not a voice you need to hear,” said Kervis. “None of us hear it, do we, Mage?”

Meralda rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Oh, we all hear it, but I’d appreciate it if you gentlemen would pretend you didn’t.”

The guards smiled and nodded.

Meralda raised an intricate glass and brass device to her lips. “I told you to wait until I called you,” she said. “Unless you saw something threatening. Have you seen something threatening, Mug?”

“Um, no. I just wanted to be sure this thing works.”

“Satisfied?”

“Being quiet now.”

Meralda lowered the device and sighed.

The box quietly gathering dust on aisle ten, shelf twenty-two, slot fifteen had been marked simply ‘Vars. Notes.’ It had contained a stack of old parchment pages from which the ink had long since fled.

But the box had a false bottom, and wrapped in silk Meralda found a pair of identical glass devices. Pushing a copper switch on the side of either one while speaking caused the other to sound with the speaker’s voice, and no method Meralda tried was able to eavesdrop on the conversation. Even the jewel was detectable, if one knew what to look for. But Tam’s device might as well be made of ghosts and shadows.

Which made these either handiwork of Tam herself, or something even older she purloined and kept hidden.

Meralda grinned.

One day, I’ll hide them again myself, and thus snub my nose at the Official Inventory.

“We heard the king will be there,” said Kervis, in a whisper.

Meralda nodded. The king’s note had been terse, but at least informative. I
nspect the stands and the Tower,
it read.
Discuss final instructions for loosing the shadow moving spell,
etc. etc.

And all done under heavy guard. Meralda wasn’t sure what message Yvin was trying to send by going through with such a risky meeting in the first place, or to whom the message was meant.
I have quite enough to worry about without involving politics,
she thought.
That’s the king’s problem.

I just have to see that Tirlin doesn’t erupt into flames and doom before Yvin delivers the first word of his speech.

The pay master’s wagon rattled and lurched, its iron wheels raising sparks on both sides as the driver urged his eight horse team faster and faster. Built to carry gold, the pay master’s wagon was armored, sturdy, and nearly unstoppable, although its ride was anything but smooth. The thundering hooves of the guards weaving expertly about the wagon added to the din, leaving Meralda thoroughly bruised and nearly deaf by the time the wagon reached the last street before the park and began to slow.

The Bellringers kept their eyes on the windows, wary of every passing shadow. The guards seated across from Meralda did the same.

The wagon rolled to a halt. The hoof beats surrounding it slowed and finally stopped as well.

Orders were shouted. More guards, this time on foot, rushed to the wagon. After a moment, Meralda’s door was opened and the captain, himself, peeked in.

“We’re here,” he said. “Looks safe enough, at the moment. Yvin is waiting.”

Meralda clambered down from the tall, iron-clad wagon. A breeze ran through her hair.

The Bellringers followed and took up positions on either side of her. The guards formed two lines about them, and with a nod from Meralda the party started down the walk.

The guardsman immediately to Meralda’s right smiled at her and winked.

Meralda grinned and blushed and nearly stumbled.

Donchen kept in perfect step with his fellows.

“Been a lot more trouble for the Vonats,” said the captain, as he ambled beside Meralda. “We had to break up a fight between them and some of the Hang five-master crew last night, in fact. Of course I couldn’t understand what was being said, but it seems some bad blood has sprung up between them. I wonder why that is?”

“I’m sure I have no idea,” said Meralda.

“No, of course not, you wouldn’t. Still. Someone sent a spell their way that filled their sheets with bed bugs and their shoes with centipedes. They lodged a formal complaint with the Accords Hospitality Commission, did you know that? Threatening to sue Tirlin.”