‘Then there is the enchantment luring the mercenaries to take the Archipelagans’ coin. I truly believe that this will prove strong enough to convince these men that this proposed attack on Hadrumal stands at least some chance of success.’
As he ticked off the different workings of Artifice on his fingers, Lusken’s eyes flickered nervously to Aritane who was looking at him, expressionless, not offering any comment even when he paused after some speculation, looking hopefully at the Mountain woman.
‘Believing they have two chances out of three of living through a venture will be good enough odds for most hirelings to roll those runes,’ Corrain growled.
‘Especially since the survivors will share out the loot which the dead men can’t claim,’ Hosh added.
‘Lastly there is this enchantment telling the Archipelagans where to sail to find Hadrumal.’ Lusken looked apprehensively at Jilseth. ‘That spell is also convincing them that the wizard isle lies open and undefended now that the Archmage has exhausted every mage’s strength by unleashing such cataclysmic magic against the corsairs.’
She found her mouth was dry as she recalled Planir’s final question; the one he said needed an answer before he could devise any plan to safeguard the wizard isle. ‘Have you seen any indication that this Artifice has spread beyond the Jagai domain? Can we expect any other warlords to send their triremes and battle galleys?’
Lusken spread apologetic hands. ‘I have no way of knowing, Madam Mage.’
‘Would these Archipelagans who’ve visited Halferan have heard anything of such plans?’ Corrain scowled at Jilseth as though he knew of Planir’s hand in prompting the Khusro wives’ visit. ‘Can you ask Lady Zurenne by means of your magic?’
‘I can,’ she answered him coolly. More than that, she would ask Zurenne to ask the Archipelagan Kheda who was doubtless far better informed. Jilseth also decided to bespeak Velindre and Mellitha as soon as she got the chance. Even if they were so inconveniently pre-occupied in Parnilesse, she could hope they might still be able to make their own enquiries.
‘I believe we can devise some Artifice to pursue this malice which will show us how far it has reached.’ The eldest mentor looked hopefully at Guinalle. ‘With your assistance, Madam Adept?’
She nodded.
Usara spoke for the first time. ‘As yet we’ve seen no indications of preparations for warfare among the Khusro islands or in Miris or any domain south of that. The Archmage asked us to scry from Suthyfer in hopes of such concerns going unnoticed by these Soluran Orders who may well be spying on Hadrumal to see what magic is being worked there.’
He shook his head, his expression grim.
‘That’s scant comfort. The Jagai domain is readying a substantial fleet. They have bought up shiploads of slaves from Relshaz, just as they did when they sought to attack Anskal on the corsair island. They have also sent other
zamorin
to recruit mercenaries in Relshaz and from as far afield as the Carifate, according to our friends there. Hadrumal’s mages and Kellarin’s adepts have done what they can to hobble their plans but with limited success. They still expect to see a fleet of galleys depart at the turn of the season with a substantial mercenary force aboard.’
What was it the Caladhrians said, Jilseth mused; that every upright rune had one upside down on its reverse side. Just as she was relieved to think that Velindre and Mellitha were doing more in Parnilesse than remaking the Maubere inlet and its people for a profitable future, she learned that even those redoubtable magewomen were finding themselves outfaced.
‘Jagai plans on attacking Hadrumal from north and south,’ Corrain said suddenly. ‘One fleet will come from Col, the other will come from the Archipelago. They may even divide their ships and launch an assault on the island’s eastern and western flanks at the same time.’
He looked at Jilseth. ‘Can you defend Hadrumal on all quarters?’
‘I’m sure that the Archmage will make his plans accordingly.’ Jilseth had no doubt of that. A far more worrying question was how would the Council of Mages react? Was there the slightest chance that the most self-absorbed and contentious mages could set aside their fixations and simply do as Planir asked without arguing for so long that only a mercenary sword cutting their throats would finally silence them?
What of Hadrumal’s halls and those wizards who would at least be free of the Council’s rivalries and preoccupation with those thrice-cursed artefacts? Were there enough journeyman mages to watch every league of the island’s coastline? To sustain the magical misdirections that had defended their sanctuary since Trydek had first brought his followers there?
Despite the warmth in this small room, Jilseth felt cold. Had that ancient warding magecraft ever truly been tested or had awe of the Archmage and the rumour of the wizard isle’s unknown wizardry simply been sufficient to deter the curious and adventurous?
‘We must watch for further Artifice,’ she said abruptly. ‘There must be something more yet to come. I cannot believe that the Solurans would contrive this Archipelagan attack if they knew full well that these ships will simply become lost in Hadrumal’s mists or be blown back out to sea.’
‘Quite so,’ Usara agreed soberly.
‘However vigilant we may be for aetheric malice, and we will be,’ Guinalle promised, ‘the most certain way to be forewarned of their precise plan of elemental attack would be to search out these wizards whom we know wish Hadrumal ill and to look into their innermost thoughts.’
The Col adepts looked at her, affronted.
‘That would be—’ Mentor Garewin’s face twisted with distaste ‘—an unconscionable abuse of our Artifice.’
Guinalle gazed levelly at him. ‘I do not say that we should, merely that we could.’
‘They’ve shown themselves more than willing to plant their lies in countless unwitting minds,’ Corrain interjected. ‘Why should we cripple ourselves with such scruples? Forewarned is forearmed.’
‘If we lower ourselves to their level, we are no better than they are,’ Mentor Parovil said sternly.
‘If a man goes into a tavern brawl expecting festival fisticuffs, he’ll be lowered soon enough by a boot in his stones,’ Corrain retorted.
‘That Soluran invaded Mentor Micaran’s thoughts,’ Lusken said abruptly. ‘Surely there can be no greater abuse of Artifice than using it to kill?’
‘Your point?’ Mentor Undil asked coldly. ‘Do you propose that we murder the Soluran adept’s allies in retaliation?’
‘Enough.’ Mentor Garewin raised a hand before the young adept could answer. The bearded scholar was sorely troubled. ‘I could not in good conscience sanction such unwarranted intrusion into anyone’s mind purely at a venture. We could perhaps reconsider, if we were to learn anything as we keep watch over these Soluran adepts which convinces us that some outright elemental assault on Hadrumal is truly intended. Then, and only then, we could brush against these wizards’ thoughts, to learn whatever might be most urgently preoccupying them. Only these wizards whom we know to be directly involved in this conspiracy.’
He raised his hand again to anticipate Mentor Parovil’s protests. ‘I know and I share your reservations, Master Scholar. I would not even contemplate such a thing if it weren’t for Micaran’s death. But Lusken is right. These people have abandoned all decency in their own use of Artifice.’
‘If we are to be on our guard against these other Soluran adepts, we need to know who they are,’ Madam Undil pointed out. ‘At the moment, we only know the fading echo of their enchantments through the aether.’
Jilseth stiffened, realising Aritane was looking straight at her.
The Mountain woman spoke, her upland accents stark in this gathering. ‘Madam Mage, Guinalle tells me that you used your necromancy to see this dead Soluran meeting with a handful of wizards and two other adepts. May we see them for ourselves through your memories of your spell?’
Her gesture took in the other adepts in the room who at least looked as startled as Jilseth felt. She baulked, regardless.
‘Surely Lady Guinalle can share her own recollections.’ Jilseth had no wish to repeat the experience of Micaran’s Artifice deceiving her wizard senses in Planir’s study. That had been bad enough and she had been safe in Hadrumal, only facing one adept.
Guinalle shook her head with sincere regret. ‘I was concentrating entirely on trying to work my own Artifice through your spell. That will blur and distort any attempt to share my memories.’
‘I can tell you what I have learned—’ Jilseth began.
‘Forgive me,’ Master Garewin apologised, ‘but you cannot know which details might tell us something of particular significance. It would be far better if we could see this meeting for ourselves, albeit through your eyes.’
‘Even if we were to ask you for every detail, that risks inadvertently overlooking something vital,’ Undil added, ‘something we won’t recognise until we see it.’
‘We must know which Houses of Sanctuary these adepts are sworn to,’ Usara urged Jilseth.
Guinalle nodded. ‘Then we can use our own Artifice to find out if these Soluran Orders are merely working with a few men and women who’ve turned traitor to their vows or if this corruption has polluted the entire House.’
‘Or if it stems from their teachers,’ Aritane said coldly. ‘Fish rot from the head.’
Planir would want to know precisely these things. Jilseth had no doubt of that, however fervently she might wish to deny it.
‘How—’
Aritane reached across the table and took firm hold of her hand.
Jilseth didn’t find herself in that peaceful library she had dreamed of more than once since Micaran had first shown it to her. Instead she was in the very chamber where the Soluran wizards and adepts were meeting. It was as though she had stepped into the vision summoned by her own necromancy. But this was undoubtedly Artifice. As before, Jilseth could not feel the least hint of any element through her wizard senses.
Once again, she had to fight the compulsion to search, panic-stricken, for some reassuring reality. Instead she forced herself to concentrate on what she could see before her, as if her eyes and ears weren’t deceiving her in this repellent manner.
She and the Mountain woman were not alone. Guinalle stood over by the window and the four Col mentors were huddled by the resolutely barred door.
The five wizards and the three Soluran adepts were seated around the table, though they were not talking as they had been in Jilseth’s necromantic vision. Each one sat unmoving, though not with their faces and hands at rest as though someone had called their meeting to order before plotting further treachery. Each one was frozen in mid-gesture or with unguarded expressions on their faces, as if momentarily startled by some loud noise outside this room.
‘This is truly remarkable.’ Master Garewin looked around, astonished.
‘This is
sheltya
Artifice,’ Aritane said without emotion. ‘Used to search a witness’s recollections when some crime has been committed or grave accusations are made.’
Was she accused or suspected of some offence? Jilseth wanted an explanation if not an outright apology for the woman inflicting such precipitate enchantment on her. She had been about to ask how Aritane proposed to proceed. She hadn’t agreed to anything. But when she attempted to speak, Jilseth found that she couldn’t even open her mouth.
‘Do the
sheltya
pay any particular heed to Soluran Artifice?’ Mentor Undil asked hesitantly. ‘Might they be able to tell us more of these particular Houses?’
‘They keep watch over any adepts who encroach on the uplands,’ Aritane replied. ‘If these are Houses in any of Solura’s northern border provinces, the
sheltya
may well know of them and their concerns.’
‘How can we see such every detail so clearly?’ Mentor Lusken was peering at the amulets hung around each of the seated adept’s necks. All three of them wore different patterns of interlinked and concentric circles.
‘You will have to ask Madam Jilseth to explain the secrets of her necromancy.’ Guinalle came to look as well. ‘Do any of you recognise these particular devices?’
Jilseth tried to take a step forward so that she could commit them to her own memory. She couldn’t move her foot.
‘Do we know where this room is?’ Mentor Parovil advanced cautiously to one of the four windows, as though his silent footsteps might somehow rouse the motionless wizards and adepts. ‘Does Madam Jilseth?’
Why were they speaking as though she wasn’t even there? Jilseth looked down. She could see her hands, her skirts, even the toes of her boots as clear as day.
‘Surely this is a tower.’ Madam Undil studied the curving masonry and the exposed rafters supporting the floorboards of the room above. ‘But is it in one of these wizardly Orders’ retreats or part of some Soluran noble’s castle?’
Jilseth’s fury choked her. She could tell them precisely where they were if this cursed Artifice wasn’t gagging her. Not that she had her affinity to thank for that knowledge, severed as she was from elemental sensation. She had spent the afternoon wringing all the information she could from the Soluran adept’s corpse before consigning it to the deepest and coldest cellar beneath the Terrene Hall to await Planir’s decision on its fate.
She had seen the Soluran adept arrive along the road skirting the edge of farmland as Megrilar province’s northern forests thinned towards the border with Astrad to the east. This tower was at the heart of the Order of Detich’s compound; a daunting fortification in its own right.