Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) (8 page)

‘Truly?’

Zurenne wasn’t asking about the stars. Was that how the household saw her? She so often felt wretchedly inadequate, far from a worthy parent. Or was Hosh just echoing his own loyal mother, Abiath?

‘There’s the Ruby.’ Hosh was still intent on the skies. ‘See, my lady, over in the west?’

As he pointed, Zurenne saw a star glimmering faintly red amid a spray of white pinpricks. One outshone the rest.

‘That’s the Diamond along with it, both within the stars of the Canthira Tree.’ Hosh’s tone grew unexpectedly animated. ‘The Archipelagans hold that plant dear, my lady, not just for its flowers’ beauty and fragrance. It will regrow from burned stumps and black ash, even when fire sweeps right across an island and kills every living thing.’

‘What does such a portent mean?’ Zurenne was growing curious.

‘That’s the arc of foes, my lady. They count twelve such regions around the whole compass of the sky.’ Hosh gazed at the star-filled darkness. ‘Halferan is renewed, like a Canthira tree, and the Ruby is a talisman against fire. The Diamond is a talisman for leaders, and you and the captain have both proven yourself against the corsairs. Those are omens in your favour, not for anyone who would attack you.’

‘But surely the southern barbarians would read the skies to favour themselves?’ Now Zurenne was intrigued.

Hosh shook his head, pointing to the sky halfway between north and east. ‘Not since the Emerald moved into the arc of death.’

Zurenne shivered as she searched in vain for the merest speck of green. ‘That sounds ill-omened.’

‘Not for us,’ Hosh reassured her. ‘As long as the Emerald lies in that arc of the sky, the Archipelagans will look for warnings above all else in their heavenly omens. The stars of the Spear are there at present so that’s counselling caution for warlike men. A clear portent against aggression especially with the Opal in the arc of travel with the stars of the Walking Hawk.’

Hosh pointed but Zurenne could only see the pale round of the Greater Moon. She could make out nothing among the stars that might signify the exotic and unknown creatures which Hosh was talking about.

‘The Walking Hawk’s a sign for watchfulness and the Opal’s a talisman against magic, so that would warn of wizardly hazards facing anyone venturing to the mainland. The Pearl’s on the other side of the Emerald, in the arc of marriage and all things beloved. The Pearl’s another talisman against magic but the Winged Snake with it is an emblem of courageous defence. So that means if they stay close to home, such omens should keep them safe. With three heavenly jewels in the same quarter of the sky, the Aldabreshi will take those omens to heart.’

Hosh fell silent and then shrugged. ‘For whatever good such hopes may do them.’

Had he ever seen anything to uphold the savages’ faith in such stars? Zurenne’s chattering teeth cut off that question. She stood up, rubbing her hands briskly together to warm them. ‘I should return to the feast, but come back into the shrine. You have as much claim to the gods’ and goddesses’ favour as anyone else. Then you must come and have your share of the food and ale.’

‘Very well, my lady.’ Hosh was clearly reluctant but more unwilling to gainsay Zurenne.

She opened the shrine door to find that Mistress Rotharle had departed. Ushering Hosh inside, she left him to his private devotions and went through the inner door onto the empty dais.

Zurenne lingered, ready to deny entry to anyone else stepping up to enter the shrine, just for a little while. She searched the gathering down on the hall’s floor, looking for Lysha mingling with her people. Kusint’s red head soon indicated her daughter’s presence. The young captain was standing close at her shoulder as the throng circled around them. Everyone in the household was eager to offer their lady a festival greeting.

A few moments later Zurenne heard the outer door to the shrine open and close. So Hosh would rather go hungry than show his wounded face to this hall full of people, even if the demesne folk should surely be counted as friends and his own mother was here among them.

She saw Abiath smiling in the midst of a circle of the village’s elder matrons. Hosh might be only a handful of years older than Lysha but Abiath had been all but past hope of children when he had been born. Since her husband had been killed so soon after in an accident, life’s burdens had weighed the diminutive woman down further. Did the return of her only son, given up for dead, balance those scales? Hardly.

Zurenne found her joy in the festival tarnished. It was so unfair, that Hosh should have endured so much, that he should have survived such travail, only to return and find himself still distanced from his kith and kin by disfigurement.

The poor boy couldn’t leave his tribulations behind him as this new year started. If only someone could take away Hosh’s sufferings as quickly and as easily as Madam Jilseth and the tall blonde magewoman had relieved him of that strange arm-ring which the Mandarkin wizard had used to enslave him.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

The residence of Mellitha Esterlin, Relshaz

Winter Solstice Festival, 3rd Evening

T
HIS TIME
V
ELINDRE
called a halt to their endeavours. ‘Jilseth, unless you see some crack in the ensorcellement, I suggest we abandon this approach.’

‘There might be something—’ Seeing Merenel’s involuntary grimace, Jilseth broke off and nodded her agreement. ‘I may well be imagining it.’

‘It is long past time we had something to eat and to drink.’ Mellitha looked towards the side table and a silver hand bell stirred itself to ring a summons.

‘Madam?’ As always, a handsome lackey answered her call within moments.

‘Wine for us all, if you please, and whatever festival delicacies have been waiting in the kitchen. Please offer my profound apologies to Seomina,’ Mellitha added ruefully.

Tired as she was, Jilseth smiled. On her earlier visits here she had seen how Mellitha’s cook would forgive her mistress anything.

‘At once, Madam, and this arrived just before the last chime.’ The lackey presented an ink-smudged and hastily sealed letter.

Mellitha read it and frowned as the servant headed for the door. ‘Master Resnada says that Kerrit Osier has taken a turn for the worse. He asks for your help, Jilseth.’

‘Help with what?’ Velindre demanded. ‘Resnada’s the apothecary.’

‘He merely asks for Jilseth’s assistance. See for yourself.’ Mellitha passed the grimy reed paper to Velindre and snapped her fingers to attract her lackey’s attention before he left the room. ‘Nishail! Who brought the note?’

‘One of Master Resnada’s boys. He wouldn’t wait for a reply.’

‘Intent on his festival fun,’ Mellitha wondered aloud, ‘or unwilling to be seen loitering at a wizard’s gates?’

‘The latter, I would guess, Madam,’ the lackey said unhappily.

Velindre looked over her shoulder. ‘The mood on the streets is still ugly?’

‘Yes, Madam Mage.’

As Nishail nodded, Jilseth was already rising to her feet. ‘I’ll go. I’m unlikely to be recognised.’

She had visited Kerrit often enough in his convalescence through the fading days of For-Autumn. When news had first broken of wizardry loose in the Archipelago, Aldabreshi hotheads had attacked a number of Relshaz’s better-known wizards. Kerrit had suffered by far the worst assault. The scholarly mage had been so badly beaten that his life had hung in the balance.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Merenel offered.

Jilseth shook her head. ‘I’d rather you stayed here, ready to bespeak Planir once I know if there’s truly cause for concern.’

Alas, she had no doubt that there would be. Master Resnada wouldn’t send such a note for no reason, still less write it in such haste. The apothecary was as level-headed as he was skilled.

‘Send word as soon as you can.’ Mellitha exchanged a look with Velindre suggesting they both thought the same.

Nishail opened the door to usher Jilseth into the marble-floored hallway. ‘Shall I fetch you a lantern, my lady?’

He knew better than to ask if a wizard needed him to summon a carriage in this emergency.

‘No need.’ She pulled her grey cloak from its peg beside the front door, mindful of the cool of the cloudless night outside.

Nishail opened the front door and Jilseth stood on the white stone house’s steps. She looked with some misgiving at the heavy wooden gates in the high wall encircling the residence. This prosperous and decorous district was normally so peaceful that the lyrical songbirds in the orchard beyond Mellitha’s lawns could be clearly heard inside the house. She glanced at the bare-branched fruit trees framing the immaculate flower beds sleeping through the short Relshazri winter. Elegant redcanes waved fronds like scarlet feathers.

This evening it sounded as though the modest tavern on the corner of the broad road at the end of this quiet side street was packed to the rafters. The cheering, jeering and shouts had an unpleasantly harsh edge.

‘Is this the usual revelry?’ Jilseth reminded herself that she had never spent a solstice holiday in Relshaz. Festivities in Hadrumal were bound to be decorous by comparison. Those mainland-born still cherishing fond memories of their families’ rites made their seasonal observances before whatever statues they kept in their rooms. Few wizards paid much heed to whatever liturgies and deities they had been raised with.

‘There seems to be more excitement than usual.’ Nishail looked apprehensive.

Jilseth was tempted to ask him to open the gate, so she could look outside and judge for herself. No, Master Resnada had asked for her help. Kerrit was a mage and Hadrumal’s interests must always come first.

‘Tell Mistress Esterlin that I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Her affinity reached down through the flagstones to the delta mud far beneath. That rich darkness was resonant with every fragment of rock and earth which the mighty River Rel had carried down from its springs amid the broken uplands where Dalasor butted up against Ensaimin and Caladhria. More than that, Jilseth could trace every successive tributary’s load of silt added to this great city’s shifting foundations.

With her wizardry solidly rooted, Jilseth reached upwards into the air. Not so long ago, this had been one of her least favourite workings, the elemental air so irritatingly elusive. Now she wove her translocation with ease and assurance, deftly blending the hints of fire and water that were integral to the spell. Now she could thread her knowledge of the streets around Master Kerrit’s house through the interstices of the air-born wizardry that would carry her there.

The yard and Mellitha’s gardens disappeared as white light enveloped her. Jilseth felt her feet leave the flagstones. In the next breath, she felt cobbles and something unpleasantly slimy beneath her leather half-boots’ soles.

As the magelight faded, she looked down to see what she had landed in. What was it her first teacher in Hadrumal had said so often? Chance can always be relied on to curb any mage’s inclination to arrogance.

At least whoever had celebrated the solstice so early and so unwisely wasn’t still here vomiting. Jilseth scraped the noisome mess off the side of her boot as she looked around to see if anyone might have noticed her arrival.

Kerrit Osier’s house was a narrow three-storey dwelling, one of a handful surrounding the yard tucked back from the bustling street. This was one of Relshaz’s more humble districts. The buildings were white with lime wash not marble, brick-built tenements five and six storeys high. The residents lived their lives on their balconies and with open doors and windows rather than hidden behind high walls and gates.