Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) (54 page)

‘I will not use my skills to warp anyone’s thoughts.’ The young scholar looked deeply insulted.

‘That’s not what we ask,’ Hosh said quickly before Corrain could speak. ‘We simply ask if you can show these men the reality of Artifice, so that they can ask themselves if these new thoughts are really their own.’

‘I will ask Mentor Garewin.’ Still scowling, Lusken hitched up his robe again, ready to run back up the library’s steps without tripping on the hem.

Hosh laid a hand on his arm. ‘Ask if he wishes Col to be seen as Hadrumal’s foe.’

Lusken stared at him, indignant. ‘Planir knows that Col is no enemy to wizardry.’

‘What the Archmage knows and what folk across Ensaimin think will be very different,’ Hosh countered, ‘once word spreads that these mercenaries boarded Jagai ships here before attacking the wizard isle. As long as that Soluran adept’s spite is still tainting talk in the taprooms and stables, travellers will believe that this city scorns wizardry and carry that lie home with them.’

‘Our Artifice will soon nail that falsehood to the floor,’ Lusken insisted.

All the same, now he was dubiously biting his lip as he hurried back to the door.

Corrain handed a silver penny to Hosh. ‘Go and find us a gig.’

He found he couldn’t stand still to wait. Pacing back and forth, he ignored the watchful librarian. How long would the other mentors delay Lusken with questions and arguments? What would they do if Master Garewin forbade him to come with them? Try to beat some sense into these mercenaries? How long would that take?

How long before the Elected’s watchmen turned up to throw everyone into their lock-up? That might stop a few mercenaries from taking the
zamorin
’s coin but Corrain couldn’t afford to spend a night in a cell.

He paused to look up at the clouded sky. Both moons would be at their quarter tonight if they were ever able to show themselves. Beyond that he had no notion what their place in the heavens might signify to the Archipelagans.

He must ask Hosh. He watched the lad hurry across the square to offer an immediate new hire to a driver letting a passenger descend from his gig. Corrain approved. More than that, he reminded himself that Hosh had survived, alone with no hope of rescue amid the corsairs and later when Anskal had enslaved him.

Not that Corrain knew much of Hosh’s sufferings. They’d spent little time together since the corsair isle’s destruction with Corrain so busy about a baron’s duties and Hosh finding tasks around the manor that kept him out of view. Even if they had found themselves alone, Corrain would have been as reluctant to ask the lad about his trials, as he was to answer such intrusive curiosity about his own tribulations.

For the moment, it was enough to remind himself that just because Hosh was quiet, that didn’t mean he was dull-witted. This detour to ally themselves with a mentor proved that.

Lamplight caught his eye and he saw the library door open to allow Lusken to leave. Corrain whistled for Hosh. The young mentor began talking before he was within ten paces.

‘Now that they can stop hunting the man from Wrede, Mentor Garewin and the others will work an enchantment to counter the Soluran’s lies.’

‘To renew trust in wizardry?’ Corrain was relieved. That proved short-lived.

Lusken shook his head. ‘To remove the doubts which Soluran Artifice makes so unnaturally compelling. Then the populace will be free to make up their own minds.’

That was better than nothing, Corrain supposed, as long as this enchantment could move as swiftly as the Soluran’s malice. Otherwise it would prove as useful as a man on foot chasing a horse thief.

‘You will come with us to the Spice Wharf,’ he persisted, ‘to help stop the Archipelagans recruiting mercenaries?’

Lusken nodded. ‘I will see what Artifice is at work and what may be done to counter it.’

Hooves clattered on the paviours as Hosh arrived in the gig. Corrain urged Lusken up and climbed after him. The driver whipped up his horse, already told where to go.

‘Word of Mentor Micaran’s death is spreading through the university,’ Lusken said sombrely as the vehicle left the square. ‘Our adepts are most disturbed to think that aetheric magic can be used with such deadly intent. Soluran Artificers will find scant welcome in our libraries now.’

‘Good.’ Though Corrain would wager good gold that at least one or two Col scholars would be secretly wondering how they might learn those particular enchantments for their own use. Regardless, scholars giving the cold shoulder to Solurans visiting the city for the rest of the year would do nothing to stop the Archipelagans intent on putting Hadrumal to the sword in twenty days or so.

Hosh had different concerns. ‘Not all Soluran adepts are to blame. We saw only three of them meeting the wizards opposed to Hadrumal.’

‘Which Houses of Sanctuary are they sworn to?’ Lusken demanded.

Hosh could only shake his head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘How can we find out?’ Lusken scowled.

‘Perhaps Madam Jilseth can offer you some clues when we meet at the Prefecture,’ Hosh suggested, ‘or Lady Guinalle might know some enchantment?’

‘Perhaps.’ Lusken lapsed into brooding thought.

Corrain was more than content to ride the rest of the way to the docks in silence. He rested one hand on his sword’s scabbard to stop the hilt digging into Mentor Lusken’s ribs. Mentally, he rehearsed every thrust, every parry, every guarding stroke which old Fitrel had ever taught him.

If even a handful of the mercenaries could be dissuaded from this fools’ quest, Corrain could hope that word would spread through the rest like a rumour of pox in a popular whorehouse. How long before the
zamorin
or his lackeys saw those who’d been waiting to try their luck drifting away? Would they realise who was responsible? Perhaps Corrain would get a chance to test his sword skills against one of these fabled Aldabreshin warriors.

That prospect didn’t thrill him nearly as much as it would have done once. Life as a baron required little by way of sword play. Mostly it demanded talking and reading and writing letters. True, Corrain kept promising himself he would find time to drill Reven with blunted blades, to improve the young sergeant’s skills. He still intended to hone his own expertise against whatever tricks and ripostes Kusint had learned in the mercenary company which he’d joined looking for riches in Lescar’s civil wars. It wasn’t the Forest youth’s fault that a swift defeat in battle had seen them captured and sold to Relshazri slavers who’d sold them on to the corsairs.

If plans were pans there’d be no need of coppersmiths. That was one of old Fitrel’s favourite sayings. Corrain realised, with painful clarity, that he hadn’t wielded a sword in practice, much less in anger, since he’d led the attack on the corsairs’ island. Even then, he hadn’t bloodied his blade. Hosh had killed the blind corsair leader and the black-bearded brute who had murdered the true Lord Halferan. He would do well to remember that as well.

‘Spice Wharf.’ The driver reined in his horse.

‘There’s the Jagai great galley.’ Hosh choked on his words as he pointed to a wide-bellied vessel with capacious holds below its rowing deck and generous accommodation in the cabins above. Ropes as thick as a man’s wrist secured it to dockside bollards, stern on so that ladders on either side of the tiller rested on the stone quay.

Two triremes were anchored further out in the harbour; lean and watchful with their vicious rams cleaving the slowly drifting water. Aldabreshin archers patrolled the narrow decks raised above the tiered rowers’ seats.

Corrain’s own hands clenched around the memory of an oar shaft first slick with sweat and then with fluid from burst blisters and finally with blood as overseers’ whips allowed his raw palms no respite.

‘Where are they going?’ Lusken wondered.

Corrain blinked and saw that the half-circle of armed and armoured men gathered around the galley was breaking up. Some turned away disgruntled, some resigned, a few with contented grins or clapping each other on the shoulder in congratulation.

‘Pay me your penny, if you please, Masters,’ the gig driver prompted. ‘This is where you told me to come. It’ll be another fare if you want to go further.’

‘Thank you.’ Corrain gathered his wits and found the driver’s coin.

He jumped down. Lusken and Hosh quickly followed.

‘Is this Mentor Garewin’s doing?’ Hosh asked the Col adept hopefully.

Corrain didn’t wait to hear the answer. He hurried forward to accost one of the departing mercenaries. ‘I heard these Archipelagans were hiring? They can’t have filled their roster?’

‘Come back tomorrow morning,’ the man advised. ‘They say there’s not enough daylight left to test a man’s skills and they won’t risk an accident sparring by torchlight or lanterns.’ He jerked his head towards the fat
zamorin
conferring on the quayside with a trio of dark-skinned swordsmen in Archipelagan armour. ‘Our man in the silks insists that they cannot risk blood being shed.’

‘Why?’ Corrain demanded.

‘Who knows?’ The mercenary shrugged. ‘I won’t argue and risk going home needing an apothecary to stitch a wound.’

Hosh stepped forward. ‘Has the man in the silks told you where the Jagai galleys will take the men he hires?’

‘Not as yet.’ The man was unconcerned.

With some effort, Corrain held his tongue, waiting to see where Hosh intended to lead this conversation.

‘You know he hasn’t even told the swordsmen who’ve taken his gold,’ the lad persisted.

The mercenary shrugged again. ‘They swear that we’ll be told once the galleys are underway.’

‘When it’s too late for you to jump ship.’ Corrain couldn’t help himself.

‘I know where they’re going.’ Hosh looked the man in the eye. ‘They plan on attacking Hadrumal. They’ll send you fools ashore to try killing the wizards. How many do you think will even get off the dock before you’re turned to stone or blowing away as ash on the wind?’

The mercenary stared at Hosh before bursting into a guffaw. ‘I don’t know who sold you that story, but he saw you for a fool.’

‘I swear—’

‘Enough, Hosh.’ Corrain gripped his elbow and drew him aside to let the laughing man pass.

‘Captain—’ Hosh protested.

‘A moment of your time, friend.’ Corrain held up a silver penny as he stepped into another mercenary’s path.

‘Just one.’ The man took the coin with a wary glance at Lusken waiting a few paces behind them.

Corrain could see the man judging where the real threat lay. Put the Caladhrian with the sword on the ground and the man was confident that Hosh and Lusken would lose their nerve.

‘Friend!’ He challenged the mercenary to reclaim his attention. ‘Do you know that these Aldabreshi are hiring swords to send against Hadrumal? The Jagai warlord wants to take on the Archmage.’

‘Does he now?’ Disbelief rang through the mercenary’s words.

‘My oath on it,’ Corrain insisted, ‘or Saedrin throw me to Poldrion’s demons.’

‘And you’re so keen to save my skin,’ the man sneered, ‘when you don’t know me from a beggar in the gutter?’

‘I wouldn’t leave a beggar in the gutter to have his throat cut if I could raise a shout to stop it.’ Corrain spread empty, placating hands.

The mercenary stepped forward to shove Corrain’s shoulder, belligerent. ‘Liar. You just want to thin tomorrow morning’s line; to get yourself tested all the sooner.’

Sorely though it galled him, Corrain retreated with his hands still raised. ‘I’m only telling you what I heard.’

‘Liar.’ The mercenary spat contemptuously on the brick paving before going on his way.

Hosh looked askance at Corrain. ‘It must sound like a tavern tale.’

‘I suppose so.’ Whatever else he had expected, Corrain hadn’t anticipated outright disbelief.

‘It’s more than that,’ Lusken said soberly. ‘There’s Artifice at work, setting these men against anyone who might try to turn them against the Archipelagans.’

‘The Soluran?’ Corrain shook his head. ‘How long can a dead man’s Artifice plague us?’

‘How soon can Mentor Garewin put paid to his enchantments’ echoes?’ Hosh demanded.

To Corrain’s dismay Lusken shook his head. ‘The mistrust of wizardry that’s spread through the city is the dead Soluran’s work. Such readiness to trust the Archipelagans, this eagerness to fill their pockets with Aldabreshin gold and to dismiss anyone who would gainsay them is some different Artifice entirely.’

‘So the bastard does have allies lurking somewhere,’ Corrain growled.

‘Unless they’re already riding a fast horse north after learning that he’s dead,’ Lusken pointed out. ‘Leaving such delusion to be passed from hand to hand through the stables and taprooms.’

‘Can Mentor Garewin silence this enchantment too?’ Corrain demanded.

Lusken nodded but Corrain’s relief died an early death as the adept spoke.

‘We can, once we have divined the precise nature of the aetheric magic underpinning it and composed our own counter-charm.’

‘How long will that take?’

Lusken bit his lip. ‘A handful of days.’

‘When they’re on board the Jagai galleys and away from Col, can this aetheric magic remain strong enough to persuade them that attacking Hadrumal isn’t the shortest way to Saedrin’s threshold?’ Hosh shook his head in disbelief.