Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) (17 page)

‘Now.’ Velindre’s wizardry coursed through the spell like lightning through storm clouds.

In the next instant, Jilseth felt the familiar stones of Hadrumal beneath her grateful feet.

‘What—?’ A startled wizard’s exclamation echoed around the dark quadrangle.

‘Where—?’ Mellitha’s cook quavered between relief and apprehension.

Jilseth sought to reassure her. ‘You’re safe in the wizard city.’

The cool whiteness faded to reveal the courtyard in Wellery’s Hall with the ancient sundial at its centre.

‘Jilseth!’ Canfor strode forward. ‘What do you think you are doing?’

He was the last mage she wanted to see. Canfor seemed to treat the strength which he’d gained from Planir’s fourfold nexus as no more than his due. Several mages had told Jilseth that he confidently expected to be offered the next Council seat to become available.

‘Where is Cloud Master Rafrid?’ Jilseth looked towards Wellery’s tower and was relieved to see lamplight in the windows.

Now Canfor had seen Mellitha. ‘Would you care to explain this precipitate arrival, Madam Mage?’

‘A little respect for Madam Esterlin, if you please,’ Velindre snapped.

Mellitha ignored them both, surveying the courtyard. Curtains were being pulled back from windows as shutters were thrust open, querulous voices demanding answers.

‘Hadrumal,’ she muttered with loathing.

Jilseth wondered if she would learn why the magewoman disliked the wizard city so. She certainly didn’t think that Mellitha would stay here any longer than she must. Where would she go?

She wondered if the magewoman would consider visiting Halferan. Lady Zurenne and most particularly young Lady Ilysh would surely find Mellitha a fine example of a woman commanding authority and respect on equal terms with any man.

C
HAPTER
T
EN

Halferan Manor, Caladhria

5th of Aft-Winter

‘M
Y LADY
?’ H
OSH
rapped on the jamb, although the door was securely wedged open. Zurenne didn’t want anyone thinking that she was appropriating the baronial audience room in its rightful master’s absence.

So many people sought her advice though. Using this larger chamber on the tower’s ground floor with its anteroom opening from the hallway was far more sensible than having them tramp up the stairs to her sitting room and crowd the landing.It wasn’t as if she was encroaching on the muniment room securely locked behind her.

Hosh proffered a closely folded and securely sealed parchment. ‘A letter—’

‘From Corrain?’ Ilysh hastily corrected herself. ‘From the Baron?’

‘Mama?’ Esnina looked up hopefully from her copybook on the opposite side of the table beyond a branch of flickering candles. This was a dark chamber on dull winter days, with every wall fitted with oak shelves. Most were empty as yet, waiting expectantly for generations of bound and rolled parchments which would renew the manor’s archive while the barony’s ledgers and sealed, oath-bound agreements were further safeguarded in the muniment room’s locked chests.

‘The baron would send a courier dove.’ Unless, Zurenne realised, the last birds which Reven was tending had succumbed to wet or cold. But any rider from Duryea would still have had to set out before the parliament opened to arrive back here so soon. Whatever news such a letter brought would already have been overtaken by the messages which the doves had carried.

Hosh handed the letter over. ‘A rider from Licanin brought this. He says it’s urgent news.’

The boy’s hand momentarily shielded the disfigured side of his face. Zurenne had noticed him do that before, though Hosh seemed unaware of the gesture.

‘For my husband?’ Ilysh glanced towards the coffer on a side table where Zurenne had stowed the few letters addressed to the Baron Halferan which had arrived in Corrain’s absence. While she had accepted her mother’s decree that such missives must remain unread, she had done so with marked ill-grace.

‘It’s addressed to me.’ Zurenne was momentarily surprised until she recognised her sister Beresa’s personal seal. ‘It’s from your aunt, Lady Licanin.’

Who would have calculated her own husband’s journey back from Duryea, over four-fifths of Caladhria’s length. Beresa would know equally well that Corrain must still be at least a double handful of days ride away from Halferan. What news was so pressing that it couldn’t wait for either baron to reach home?

‘Has her man accepted a bed for the night?’ Zurenne snapped the wax seals and unfolded the stiff parchment. ‘Has he been asked to await my reply?’

It was barely mid-afternoon so there was always the possibility that the rider would wish to make the most of the remaining daylight.

She sat down to decipher her sister’s message. For such tidy looking script, Lady Licanin’s handwriting could be remarkably challenging to read. Her style was also politely remote. There was a full generation between Zurenne and Beresa; the oldest of her sisters, she had married Lord Licanin when Zurenne was younger than Neeny.

‘Is it news of Baron Karpis?’ Ilysh demanded.

The girl knew that the villain still coveted Halferan and moreover that Corrain had written to Lord Licanin ten days into For-Winter. Ilysh had been studying the manor’s ledgers with Zurenne when Corrain had come to inform her that he had sought the older man’s advice. He had been as perturbed as Zurenne by the letter she had received from Lady Diress, Baron Karpis’s wife, mentioning that their neighbouring lord had no intention of travelling to Duryea for the solstice parliament.

Did Beresa have some reason to suspect that Baron Karpis was looking greedily across his borders towards Halferan again? Had he heard those rumours of corsair gold hidden in the manor’s strong rooms which Corrain’s courier dove message had relayed? Zurenne searched her sister’s closely written missive for any such warning.

‘Licanin’s man says that he’ll be grateful for dinner and a bed along with a night’s rest for his horse.’ Hosh couldn’t hide his curiosity any better than Neeny. ‘He’s in no great hurry to return.’

‘Lady Licanin writes of trouble in Relshaz during the festival.’ Zurenne wondered what had actually happened as she tried to read between the lines of Beresa’s vague and ominous account. ‘Most particularly for the mages who live in the city.’

‘Does she mention Madam Velindre?’ Ilysh glanced at Hosh.

Zurenne had already noticed the boy stiffen. She still wondered what the daunting blonde magewoman had asked him when she had come to the manor with Jilseth during the last autumn solstice festival.

More than once she had bitten back questions about that ancient silver-gilt arm-ring Hosh had brought back from the Archipelago. Its magic had saved him from death amid the destruction of the corsair isle, after all. Each time Zurenne reminded herself that the poor boy would surely be as reluctant as Corrain to discuss his suffering amid the Aldabreshi, still less the horrors of captivity by the Mandarkin mage Anskal.

Besides, the arm-ring was gone. Hosh had been more than willing to hand it over to Velindre. More than that, wizardly affairs were no longer any of Halferan’s concern, not now that Corrain and his fellow lords had secured the parliament’s new law.

At least, that’s what Zurenne had told herself. Beresa’s letter suggested that the aftermath of the corsairs’ defeat was still unfolding elsewhere.

‘She says that the trouble started when a wizard died on Souls’ Ease Night. He was a long-time resident of Relshaz who had been ailing since last year. He finally succumbed to injuries which he had suffered when he was attacked by some Aldabreshi after news of magic loose in the Archipelago reached the city last year.’

‘We should ask the Archmage—’ Ilysh was reaching for her rune sigil pendant.

‘No.’ Zurenne swiftly set the parchment down on the table, compelling her daughter’s attention. ‘This is wizards’ business—’

She broke off as angry shouting outside in the manor’s compound intruded through the baronial tower’s open outer door.

‘My lady.’ Hosh was already on his way out of the audience chamber.

‘Lysha!’

Her daughter didn’t heed her, following close behind him. Zurenne hesitated for a moment before rising and holding out her hand. ‘Neeny, come with me.’

Raselle was busy upstairs and leaving the little girl unsupervised with candles already lit and a fire smouldering in the hearth was out of the question, not to mention the temptation of an unguarded inkwell. Zurenne swiftly led Esnina out into the cold grey daylight, joining Ilysh and Hosh on the great hall’s top step.

A double handful of youths hesitated between a knot of liveried Halferan troopers standing apart from their barrack mates. Even at this distance, Zurenne could see the loyal Halferans’ unease as their eyes darted between Kusint and these dissenters. The captain stood, feet solidly planted and hands on his hips, challenge in the thrust of his jaw.

The newcomers wore undyed linen shirts and homespun tunics over buff breeches. They looked down at their boots, shuffling uneasy feet amid the windblown leaves that drifted inside every time the manor’s double gates were opened. One youth stood alone, braced as though expecting attack.

Whatever had happened had already drawn lackeys and maids alike to doors and windows, curious to learn what was afoot. Even Mistress Rauffe waited expectant on the steward’s lodging’s doorstep rather than chasing everyone back to their duties.

‘Lady Ilysh!’ Zurenne hissed, low voiced, as her daughter took two steps down the stone flight.

Lysha looked back, her mouth set in a determined line achingly reminiscent of her dead father. She spoke briefly to Hosh before retreating to rejoin her mother. The boy hurried down the stair and across the courtyard to Kusint.

The newcomer standing alone heard Hosh approaching and looked around. He took a hasty step backwards, unable to hide his shock at Hosh’s misshapen features. Zurenne winced as she saw Hosh’s hand fly up to cover his disfigurement. Worse, half the manor’s household had seen his humiliation.

Kusint’s lip curled with contempt as he addressed the mutinous Halferan guardsmen, defying the gusting wind to be clearly heard from gatehouse to kitchen.

‘I am your captain, appointed by your liege lord. It is my duty to recruit and train the best men to defend Halferan. It is your duty to obey me and to show common courtesy to each other.

‘You.’ Kusint’s accusing finger jabbed at one of the dissenters. The rest hastily took a side-step to leave the man isolated. ‘Pack your gear, surrender your swords and armour. Collect a day’s meat and bread from the kitchen and start on your way home while the light lasts.’

The man must have provoked this trouble, though Zurenne was ashamed to realise she didn’t know his name. Too many of her household were still unfamiliar faces. So many loyal servants who had survived the corsairs’ attacks had chosen not to return to the rebuilt manor and the memories which could not be swept away. So Ilysh granted them leave to return to the villages where they had been born and Zurenne insisted that they accept a modest purse of coin to assure them that they were valued, to prove that they returned with honour.

She watched the disgraced guard trudging towards the barracks. At least he wouldn’t warrant any payment to drain Halferan’s modest reserves. Midwinter’s tithes had indeed been as modest as Zurenne had feared.