Elvenbane (48 page)

Now that was an intriguing idea…

She wouldn’t be able to pull it off if it turned out that this
was
a hoax—but if the whole thing just fizzled, or it actually turned out to be the real thing, maybe she should try pulling a similar trick. It would be no end amusing to watch those stiff old elders chasing their tails over something that never existed! She could do it, too, if she could lure one of the few youngsters who was a strong mage over to help
her
set up something like the dragon-skin scam…

Someone like—oh—Valyn.

The faint, musical sound of a bell rang from the speaking-tube near the entrance to the staircase.

The message bell
? She gathered up her amber-silk skirts in one hand and crossed the cushion-covered floor to reach it, interest piqued. The slaves knew not to disturb her when she was up here unless it was something or someone special.

Maybe it would be something exciting.

“Yes?” she said into the tube.

“Lord Valyn is here to see you, lady,” came the echoing voice from below, rendered anonymous by the distortions of the tube. “He says that it is very urgent.”

Valyn? How convenient! First she thought of him, then he appeared…

She was tempted to think she was getting wizard-powers!

Triana knew Valyn well enough—he was like most of the others who came to her parties; she knew he found a certain fascination in simply associating with her. She hadn’t even allowed him into the inner circle yet, and he was
still
one of the most prompt at answering an invitation—being even remotely involved with someone
of her
reputation seemed to be enough of a thrill for him.

For her part, she found his idealism and earnestness rather charming. Not for the long run, of course, but as an occasional thing, it was quite refreshing. So she had cultivated a special image of herself just for his benefit, an image some of her intimates would have found most amusing.

She wondered in startlement just what kind of a predicament he could have gotten himself into that would require coming to
her
for help.

Only one way to find out
. “Send him up,” she ordered, and waited for him, spending the time it took him to climb all of the four hundred steps to the top of her tower in carefully composing her pose, leaning out over the window to watch the lighted gardens below.

It never failed to astonish her that someone as innocent and—well—
gullible
as Valyn could be so elegant. So much naivete should accompany gawkiness, not grace. It was the grace she always saw first—

The fact that he was a threadbare, disheveled mess only dawned on her
after
he’d entered the room. It surprised her so much that she rose to her feet, quite involuntarily.

“Ancestors and Progenitors!” she exclaimed. “Valyn, where in the name of reason have you been? What have you been doing to yourself?”

“I’ve—been busy,” he said hesitantly. “It’s what I need to see you about. I’ve gotten into a bit of trouble.”

“I would say you have, just from the look of you,” she replied dryly. “I suppose it’s too much to expect that this’trouble’ hasn’t followed you to my door?”

“I don’t think it has, at least not yet,” Valyn said, as he allowed her to draw him down to the cushions beside her, although she took care not to touch him in any other way. She didn’t really want him, anyway. He was already conquered territory—and just like every other callow youngster she’d seduced. But this trouble of his—that could be worth getting involved with.

“Why don’t you just begin at the beginning,” she suggested, leaning back in her place, and assuming a properly attentive expression.

Shortly after he began, she no longer had to “assume” the expression. By the time he had finished, her head was buzzing with excitement.

“I’ll help you,” she said, quite sincerely, as he faltered to a close. His eyes didn’t so much light up, as ignite. She interrupted him before he could start thanking her. “Go get the rest of your friends and bring them here, and I’ll strengthen up the wards and shields. I may not be a master magician, but I’m not bad, and no one is going to be able to find you here without actually breaching my protections. I doubt they’ll look here, actually,” she added thoughtfully. “They’re so used to thinking of me as a sybaritic nonentity that I doubt any of those old fools would even take me into account except as a joke if they were considering a list of possible troublemakers.”

Valyn flowed to his feet, and extended a hand to help her up. She waved it away. “I want to stay up here and make some plans,” she said truthfully. “Here, take this—”

She closed her hand briefly, and concentrated on the summoning-spell; when she reopened it, one of the bloodred stone signets she kept in her desk was in the palm, still a little warm from the journey. Like all her signets, this was a simple seal carved of sardonyx, her Clan crest, a rampant cockatrice.

“Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Give that to my seneschal and tell him to take care of whatever you ask for. There’s no one here but me, just now; take however many rooms you need.”

Valyn smiled at her, a perfectly ingenuous, dazzlingly beautiful smile, and bowed over her hand, kissing the back of it lightly as he took the signet. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough—” he began.

She waved him away, playfully. “Go on with you. Get out of here—and don’t be such a foolish boy. You know very well how much I enjoy tweaking the old ones’ beards. This is just one more chance to enjoy myself at their expense.”

She noted with a certain pleasure that Valyn had learned enough of her to know when to withdraw gracefully before he began to annoy her. Once he was gone, she settled back into the softness of her cushions, caressing the fabric with a languid hand, and changing it from cream satin to deep black velvet with the touch and a few whispered words. With another word, she dimmed the lights to nothing, and watched the stars blazing through the glass of the skylight as she thought.

Wizards and halfbloods—and here she was, giving them safe harbor. What a magnificent jest! She remembered that “Shadow” now—lurking in the background the last time Valyn visited… he never left Valyn’s suite once during the entire visit. Of course, now she understood why.

She chuckled, and stretched luxuriously against the velvet of the cushions. Oh, Ancestors and Progenitors! How the Council would
love
to get their claws on this little group! Three halfbloods, all with wizard-powers, and a renegade elven lord who’d been helping them for weeks!

Just the thought of defying the elders so completely gave her a thrill of pleasure equal to anything she’d experienced all summer. But it couldn’t hold her for long—and she couldn’t help but think of other possibilities.

Then she wondered—if these wizards really could read minds, could she trick any of them into doing a little mindreading for her? It would be nice, having a tame wizard of her very own. Think of all the things she could learn that way—

Perhaps she should go to work to captivate Valyn’s Shadow. It shouldn’t be too difficult, especially if she began while he was still a little sick. Humans were so easy to manipulate when they were young. Shadow should be no exception.

And as she remembered him, he was quite handsome. Definitely different from the late Rafe. Not in her usual line, of course—but it might be quite piquant to be the one doing the courting, instead of the courted, the dominant instead of the submissive.

In fact, she might even be able to separate him from Valyn’s little entourage. She knew Valyn; he was too soft-hearted ever to condition a slave, and he indulged this one to a degree that was quite incredible. If she won Shadow over to her, she might be able to get Valyn to part with him.

Then she’d be able to subject him to her own conditioning—and she
would
have a wizard all her very own.

Now that had possibilities, indeed. She wondered how far his mind could reach. It would be worth his keep if he could only read thoughts in the next room—but if he could go farther than that, it opened up an entire realm of possibilities.

She’d never been willing to play politics before, because she never had the kinds of holds over some of the elders that
she
thought were necessary. But with a wizard to worm out their secrets, politics could prove a very rewarding arena indeed.

And a last thought—a sobering one, but the answer to a problem that had been plaguing her for years.

Shadow managed to escape detection for years
without
Valyn’s help—and then with it, never was uncovered until Valyn was caught scrying out the other wizards. She wondered how many other halfbloods there were out there, hiding under illusions?

It didn’t have to be an illusion of full humanity, either. It
could
be an illusion of full elven blood. She’d bet Valyn had never thought of that.

She played with her hair and considered the idea from all possible angles. It made perfect sense. How many elven ladies, afraid that they would be discarded by a powerful spouse, resorted to their human servants for the fertility their lords lacked?

What elven lord would
ever
argue with being presented with the male heir he needed so desperately?

The halfblood would not even need to feign mage-powers; he would
have
them…

For that matter, now she wondered how many elven lords thought of as being powerful mages were actually halfbloods, or the sons of halfbloods?

Now that was a startling thought.

Not Dyran, though. She was sure of that. He’d never have hounded that concubine of his to death if he’d been a halfblood himself—

Unless he didn’t know it; unless his mother had kept
that
a secret even from him.

What a thought!

A wicked smile played about her lips, as she considered every illusion-dispelling incantation she knew.

Imagine casting the spell on him at the right moment
—
in Council, say
—
and proof there stands Lord Dyran, the halfblood
!

She played with the idea for a while, then gave it up, regretfully.

Really, she doubted very much that he was. He’d made more than enough enemies over the years that he
had
to have had something like an illusion-breaking spell cast on him at least once. And Valyn showed every mark of pure breeding, and if there had been any illusions cast on him, she’d have noticed. It was an entertaining idea, but there wasn’t much chance of it being more than amusing entertainment.

But there was another, equally interesting idea.

The problem for a woman Clan head had always been to find a mate that wouldn’t try to take over the Clan seat for himself, and produce an heir that was unlikely to challenge her as he grew older. And yet she couldn’t produce an idiot or a weakling, either. That would be just as much a disaster. If she mated with an elven lord of
much
inferior powers, her offspring was likely to have inferior powers, and either the heir or the Clan would end up being challenged. With a weak heir, they would wind up with a cadet line in charge of the Clan seat, or they would be forced to ally themselves with a Clan that was likely to eat them alive.

But what if
she
mated with a human—no one asked the Clan heads who the fathers of their children were if they didn’t choose to reveal an alliance marriage or mating. What if some of them were mating with humans?

It would be easy enough to cast illusions then! And easy enough to keep them in place.

And all the while the child was growing up, the Lady had herself a budding wizard, bound to her by the strongest tie there was, of mother to child. If that tie stopped working as a controlling factor, the threat of exposure for what he was would keep him in his place.

What an outrageous thought!

And what an intriguing one…

And as Triana stared up at the stars, the most intriguing thought of all occurred to her.

I
wonder if I ought to try that
…

SHANA BURIED HER nose in her book as Triana sailed past the door of the library, and smoldered with resentment. The words on the page blurred for a moment as she brought her anger under control. Triana had done it again this morning, made her look like a fool in front of everyone, and had left her no out but to pretend to laugh at the joke. The elven maiden’s delicate condescension had not escaped the intended target, and Shana was heartily sick of it—and the general misery brought on by the cold she still suffered from didn’t help matters. When she complained about Triana’s behavior, Valyn claimed she was being oversensitive. So she had decided to avoid Triana as much . as possible, which, in a place this size, wasn’t really difficult.

The library was the best place to go, and Shana blessed her foster mother’s foresight in training her in the written version of elven tongue. Triana’s forefathers had amassed quite a collection of instructional volumes, including those on magic—and Shana had just found the answer to some of her questions here.

Why did the elven lords destroy the wizards one by one, rather than together? And where did they get the power to do some of the things described in the old chronicles—like building manors overnight?

She shifted a little more in the overstuffed, velvet-cushioned chair, and reread the last paragraph of her chapter. Yes, there it was. The answer had turned out to be appallingly simple. If a magic-wielder was unguarded, it was possible to
steal
his power. It would return, usually within a day, but while it was gone he was defenseless. The trick was that one had to be within a certain distance of the victim—line of sight, usually. You didn’t have to be able to see him, so long as you knew him, but you had to be within that distance. This was the first time she had ever seen the spell and its execution and results printed openly.

So that was why they killed off the wizards one at a time—so that they could also steal the wizard’s power.

Without a doubt, all of the elven lords stayed guarded against just such an occurrence, of course, whenever they were with others of their kind. This was one spell that was democratic in its effect—the weaker could very easily steal from the stronger if he knew the trick.

Now Shana knew how the old wizards and the elven lords of the past had pulled off major spells that required much more power than a single magic-wielder could ever have—like the one that could transport several people from one place to another, the more elaborate version of the one the wizards now used to steal goods from the elves. They stole it. Or, in the case of the wizards, they
loaned
it. Possibly the elven lords had cooperated that way in the past, but they certainly weren’t doing so now.

The fact that it hadn’t been used in so long that the written record of it had “fallen out” of books wasn’t really surprising. Like a fancy “secret move” in sword work, which, once it is used and known, becomes useless because everyone guards against it, this stealing of power was no longer an effective weapon because everyone expected it when they knew they -were in the company of other, possibly adversarial, elven lords. But that didn’t mean that they guarded against it all the time…

No one could be on his guard all the time. Especially not when it was something you had to work to shield against.

And it certainly didn’t mean that Shadow, Valyn, or even Triana were on guard against the ploy.

Shana closed the book and pondered her options.

Right now, it looked as if Valyn’s big plan to help the humans and halfbloods had pretty much come to nothing. So whatever got done, she was going to have to be the one to do it. She nodded grimly to herself. I
should have known better than to get involved with those two. I can’t undo it, so now I’m going to have to live with it
. Maybe if she managed to pull this “cause” together,
that
would get Valyn’s attention.

She reopened the book, and checked the text carefully, then decided to make some little experiments, figuring that she could probably drain power in such small quantities that it would scarcely be noticed. Considering how much they’d used her, she thought resentfully, it would serve them right.

Shadow, in particular, with Triana a close second.

From the moment they had entered the house, Triana had been making much of Shadow, and mostly ignoring the others. She’d even cured his cold—ignoring Shana, who was just as miserable. Predictably enough, it seemed that Shadow stopped thinking whenever the beautiful elven woman was around.

Shana’s lip curled with contempt.
Men. Completely useless
.

Valyn had persuaded him to the handfasting—a simple ritual ceremony he himself had presided over—but if he had expected it to make the two of them fall madly in love, he had been sadly disappointed. Shana had no intention of following
that
particular plan.

Though Shadow’s reaction had not been exactly what Shana had foreseen either. She had approached Shadow afterwards, intending to tell him frankly that she wasn’t in the least interested in
him
, only to have him steal a march on her.

She seethed a little inside, with resentment and frustration, and squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. It was one thing to plan on jilting someone—but when the person you intended to jilt had the same thing in mind, it didn’t do a lot for your pride… She’d made her little speech, too, just to save face, but it certainly fell flat. He hadn’t reacted at all, that she could tell.

Well, let him have Triana, then. She would choose power.
She
would accomplish great things, while he wasted his time playing the fool to a woman who’d discard him as soon as she tired of him.

And the first task: cure this wretched cold.

The summer wind blew his hair all awry as Valyn set Triana’s high-spirited little gelding into a gallop, riding out some of his restlessness and frustration. None of this was going as he had planned or hoped. Once they had reached this safe harbor, instead of everyone in the group pulling together and starting to plan how to take on the elven lords and the wizards, they all fell apart, drifting off to their own interests, the greater tasks ignored or forgotten.

While they plunged through a field of sweet-scented wildflowers, he guided the horse with skillful hands and a light pressure on the rein, and wondered what went wrong.

He’d used glamories on both Shana and Mero to get them to agree to the handfasting—but it hadn’t worked. Or at least, it hadn’t done more than get them to the handfasting. Once the handfasting ceremony was complete, they had gone off together—he’d thought for certain that they were starting to make a pair of it, that his glamories had worked.

But not too much later, he’d seen Shana alone in the library and Mero with Triana. The handfasting might just as well not have taken place.

He set the horse down a purposely overgrown path, where jumps appeared unexpectedly. The horse strained over the tallest of these, needing his encouragement to tackle them. He guided the gelding skillfully, and the horse responded—but not even the speed and the exhilaration of the jumping-course could shake the uneasy feeling that he’d done something wrong and it was backlashing on him. The horse took obstacle after obstacle, and he could not leave his worry behind him.

He wasn’t particularly happy with the way Mero was spending so much time with Triana. His cousin had assured him that he was trying to bring Triana around to their point of view, to recruit her fully for the cause, but it didn’t look like there was much recruiting going on…

He was being stupid, he told himself firmly, bringing the lathered horse to a walk and letting him cool himself down. Mero was just getting to her through the things she knew best. She had a good heart; when he got her to listen, Valyn knew Mero would bring her around. It was just a matter of time.

But he couldn’t rid himself the premonition that they had an increasingly small amount of that time left.

Triana smiled at Mero, settled down on the couch beside him, and let her glamorie steal gently over him, binding him even tighter to her will. She didn’t really have to condition most of her slaves; for all except the really strong-willed or dangerous, all she ever had to do was cast a glamorie.
That
was her strongest magic, the much-underrated magic of glamorie. The subtle webs of power that she wove were the reason why none of the elders had set their sights on her or her properties—why no one had ever seriously challenged her once she’d come to power—why her slaves were fanatically devoted to her.

She had put her entire stable of favorites aside for Mero’s sake; the first few weeks were critical in the weaving of as complex a spell as she was working. Any jarring note could force her to reweave the foundations again. Once the net was in place and tight, she could do anything she chose with her victim, but until then, she had to move very carefully.

Mero’s eyes glazed and he smiled happily back at her, gazing at her with his full attention. “And what should we do today?” she asked him. “I think we’ve surely gone over every bit of the estate by now; we’ve been riding, hawking, and hunting nearly every day. Is there anything you’d like to see or do?”

His eyes focused a little more, and he tilted his head to one side as he thought. Triana fluttered her eyelashes at him, enjoying the effect her flirtations had. She hadn’t taken him to bed yet—she would save that for the moment she set the glamorie. Until then it was rather enjoyable, playing with him, first courting and then drawing back.

Valyn probably thinks I’m bedding him every night
, she thought with carefully concealed amusement.
And he doesn’t approve
. She wondered if his prejudices were finally showing—it was all right to befriend a human or a halfblood, but don’t go to bed with one.

Poor fool, he couldn’t see how that untidy little halfblood girl fawned on his every word. Or if he did, for some reason he was pretending he didn’t. Triana hadn’t had so much fun since the Midsummer Party last year when everyone turned out to be everyone else’s lover, betraying each other on all sides, and no one knew it until they got to the party and the drink started to flow!

Mero blinked, as if he were trying to think of something. “I—you know, this probably sounds boring to you—but I’d really like to see what a Council session is like,” he said finally. “I don’t think I could get inside alone; I don’t know how, I don’t even know where it’s held. And anyway I’m not good enough to do my own illusion of disguise yet. But
you
are, and since you’re a Clan head, you could get in, right?”

Triana raised her eyebrows in surprise. So he was still thinking for himself. She hadn’t thought he had that much willpower left. Obviously she was going to have to be extra-careful in setting the glamorie. “I could. Why?” she asked casually. “Is there a point in going?”

“Well, it’s just that you learn a lot about an enemy from the way he acts with his peers,” Mero said slowly. “And I want to see Dyran with his peers. I’ve never seen him as anything other than the master, and I have the feeling that he’s the real enemy we’ll have to face.”

Interesting that he was still thinking of Dyran as an enemy, which meant he still had Valyn’s “cause” on his mind. Well, it couldn’t hurt to humor him.

“I do have a gallery box,” she said, playing with her hair and looking up through her lashes coyly. “I don’t use it very often but—why not?” She jumped to her feet, and gave her hand gracefully to Mero. “Here, stand up. I can’t work on you while you’re sitting there.”

He rose obediently, and she admired the play of muscles beneath his shirt as he moved. His frame, light, but strong, was much more to her taste than the attenuated bodies of elven men. Or even the bulky forms of human men, for that matter.

She really did need a little wizard for her very own, she mused, and she spun a careful mist of illusion that lightened his dark hair to silver-blond, thinned his body, lengthened his ears, and bleached his complexion to pale alabaster.
Once I get him broken in, he just might turn out to be the best lover I’ve ever had
.

Her work done, she stepped back and admired it critically. “I think that will do,” she said, nodding. “Are you ready? Come on, there’s a Council session going on now.”

“How are we going to get there?” he asked, as she turned without waiting for his answer, and led the way to her father’s study at a fast walk. “Lord Dyran has to spend a week in travel to get there, but Lord Leremyn lives farther away and gets home every night. What’s the trick?”

“Every one of the original High Lords had a permanent spell-cabinet in their manor,” she said over her shoulder, as he trotted down the white marble hallway to catch up with her. “It only goes one place: the Council building at the capital. We can’t change it, and if we ever tried to move it, the spell would break. Lords like Dyran, who are upstarts, really, don’t have one. There were a few of them destroyed during the Wizard War, but most of them still work. The idea was that with the cabinets, lords could live on their estates and govern them while still sitting on Council. Of course, the ones that don’t have the cabinets have to live in the capital during Council season, but that’s just too bad for them, really.”

“Why don’t they just build their own?” Mero asked, as she paused in her chatter long enough to open the study door.

“Because it takes too much power,” she explained. “The old ones built the cabinets as the manors were being built, and they
all
contributed to each cabinet’s spell, all twenty of them. It took them a year, and they couldn’t do anything magical at all during the year except to build the cabinets, it took that much power.”

Unspoken was the implication that the elven lords on the Council these days didn’t trust one another enough to either contribute power or lie helpless while recovering, in order to build more cabinets. She wondered if Mero had picked that up.

Probably
, she decided, looking at his thoughtful expression as she pulled back the pale-pink satin drapery that concealed the cabinet, and handed him one of her sardonyx seals from the drawer of the dainty carved-birch desk in front of it.