Falconfar 03-Falconfar (40 page)

"Uh—I—uh—L-lady Tesmer told me to let no one—no one at all—pass these doors and disturb them, upon pain of death. Then she turned to Lord Tesmer and said... something I tried not to hear."

"But obviously did. What was it?"

The doorguard blushed an even darker red, shook visibly, and mumbled unhappily, '"Get yourself disrobed right quick, Irrance, so you can take your time baring me properly.'"

Maera nodded. "I thought as much. So the doors behind you are locked from without right now, and barred and bolted within?"

"Y-yes, Lady."

"Tell me: if Imtowers caught fire, what would you do then? Stand like a statue at these doors, silently guarding them, because you knew you were not to disturb my parents? Or use your key, and thrust your sword in through the gap to lift the bar, and pound on the doors and bellow to rouse them or their maids to shoot the bolts and so survive?"

"I—uh—Lady, please don't bait me so! I but—"

Maera Tesmer smiled wickedly. "Faithful Haelgon, I'd not dream of doing so. You have been most loyal to my parents, and most helpful to me. I'll not even demand those door-keys from you. Oh, no."

Eyes still gleeful, she murmured something, made a swift and intricate gesture, and—

The doors behind the sentinel exploded outwards in eerie silence, the blast that destroyed them contained in an invisible sphere.

Haelgon was slammed against the inner curve of that magical prison, bowed gorily outwards along its arc and flattened in an instant—as well as impaled by many wooden shards and splinters.

Then the sphere melted away, spilling the limp, bloody body of the guard out into the passage, leaving no trace of the doors at all.

"Fool," Maera told the boneless remains coldly. "The rules in Imtowers, behind my parents' backs, haven't changed in years. Obey me and live; defy me and die. It's quite simple."

She stepped over the mess and through the hole where the great doors had been, into a draperied outer chamber where two uniformed maids lay broken, sprawled amid spreading blood and the splintered remains of their chairs, their limbs lying at strange angles and jagged, broken ends of the chair-legs thrust through their bodies.

Through the blood-spattered silks on the chamber's far side could be heard Lord Tesmer asking feebly, "What, by the glorking Falcon, was that?"

Only to be answered by the sharper tones of his spouse. "Ranee, I care not. Just you put your tongue back to what it was doing."

Maera sighed, struck aside the draperies, and strode across the opulent and deserted receiving room beyond to one of the half- dozen archways around its richly paneled walls.

She passed her hand in front of her, murmured something, and heard a faint singing in the air that told Maera her parents' swirldagger shield had faded before her assault.

The eldest child of Lord Irrance and Lady Telclara Tesmer smiled tightly. So she was still stronger in her wizardry than the best mage her parents could hire. That was gratifying.

She conjured a hand-shield—just in case; in younger days, her mother had been known to be quick indeed with thrown daggers, and to keep them well-poisoned—and walked through the last set of draperies, into her parents' bedchamber.

Lord Tesmer was spreadeagled face up, naked and bound, between the four posts of a new and grander gilded bed than they'd had the last time Maera had been in here—furtively and alone, testing her spells against the wardings that were laid thickly upon the chamber. Lady Tesmer was also naked, and as beautiful as ever. Her hair unbound, she was straddling Lord Tesmer's face on widespread knees, languidly lashing him over her shoulder with a whip that looked like a horse's tail.

Her mother turned blazing eyes on Maera and stiffened in anger, but wasn't given the time to draw breath and launch into a tirade.

"Satisfy her, Father!" Maera snapped. "She'll not be in a listening mood until she's felt the full fire of her pleasure. As for yours, some other time will have to suffice, or a handy maid, later. I've something important to show you both; yes, important enough to interrupt you this way."

Keep them off-balance, unable to start shouting at her in concert.

"So, Lord Irrance Tesmer, ply that tongue! Ply, I say!"

"Maera Harilda Mehannraer!" her mother hissed. "How dare you?"

Maera gave the Lady Telclara Tesmer a cool look. "Very easily, Mother. After all, I learned daring—to say nothing of rudeness— from you. Yet kiss the Falcon and take calm, both of you, and spare me all the snarling and storming. When you see what I've discovered, you'll understand why it just wouldn't wait. This concerns the very future of House Tesmer."

Her mother looked angry enough to dispute that, and opened her mouth to say so—but then stiffened, panted as her eyes went very wide, sobbed as a spasm of pleasure shook her entire body... and collapsed backwards atop her helpless spouse.

Maera strode over to tower over her parents, ignoring her father's stunned stare. Taking hold of her mother's breast, she squeezed the nipple sharply, evoking another spasm of thrashing pleasure, then squeezed it again. Harder.

Lady Tesmer's eyes flew open this time, glaring at her daughter.

Maera gave her a nod, as though greeting her on the road, and snapped, "Free him."

"Maera!" her mother responded sharply, "I'm not your servant, and your sheer—"

"Free him!"

Maera turned away from the bed in a swirl of sleeves and skirts, and snatched up and hurled aside a padded stool and a broad armchair. When she had enough space cleared among the overlapping fur rugs, she began a long and intricate casting.

"Insolent daughter—" Lady Tesmer began, then fell silent abruptly as she recognized what was forming in the air of her bedchamber.

It was an upright, palely glowing oval, not a gate but the largest and most powerful sort of farscrying "eye." Something far beyond any hedge-wizard.

Keeping her back to them and trusting to her hand-shield to protect it against anything they might hurl, Maera allowed herself a tight smile.

The mere nature of this spell boasted to her parents just how mighty their eldest daughter—their heir, and if any Tesmer thought that only sons mattered, she'd soon eliminate them—had become in matters of magecraft. Which was why she should swiftly demonstrate her loyalty to her parents, and keep herself clean of any apparent involvement in the deaths of her brothers. It would be tiresome to have Lord and Lady Tesmer hate and fear their most capable offspring more than they appreciated her talents.

Time to begin this mending.

"I have no wish to embarrass either of you farther," she said, trying to sound both apologetic and loving, "which is why I'm keeping my back turned. If this wasn't of such immediate importance, I'd not have dreamed of disturbing your privacy. Mother, Father... I love you both, and am loyal to you. I think first of service to you, and secondly of the strength and reputation of House Tesmer. I hope you know that."

She could hear whispers of energetically tugged silk behind her, yet it seemed a long time before her mother replied coolly, "We thought we did know that. Yet in recent days, so much of what we thought we knew to be true has proven otherwise. Trust, once lost, is harder to regain than you might think."

Had there been an ever-so-slight emphasis on that "you"?

"Turn around, Maera," her father said, as calmly as if he'd been offering her wine. "You have something to show us?"

He was offering her wine.

It would be poisoned, of course, but Maera had prepared for that. The spells that would protect her were surging bright and strong within her, so she smiled and took the proffered goblet with a smile as genuine as she could feign.

And drank deeply, matching their alert smiles with one of her own that told them, as clearly as if she'd shouted it, I know what you did to this otherwise superb wine.

Her mother's smile changed slightly. Of course you do, daughter, it seemed to say. You are a Tesmer.

Lord and Lady Tesmer were both wearing robes now, though neither of them had bothered to do them up. Interestingly, her father's manhood still stood proud; perhaps poison wasn't the only thing in their wine.

Maera's scrying oval had achieved its full size, and now floated upright like a tall door, stretching from about the height of her knees to just above her head, and about half as wide as it was high. It glowed milkily at one end of the space she'd cleared, showing only swirling clouds to the bedchamber.

"I do indeed, Father. I did not reveal this to you both earlier only because I did not think it was possible, without knowing—or guessing correctly, and I readily admit I tried to guess—where the persons one seeks have gone. Until a stray notion occurred to me that proved to be correct."

"Your demonstration that you can match your mother's mastery of cryptic speech is sufficient, Maera," Lord Tesmer said dryly. "I take it you mean to say that you've been curious as to the whereabouts of our runaways, Belard and Talyss? And acting upon some stray notion proved successful?"

"Yes, Father," Maera told him warmly.

His eyes twinkled. "So what was this notion?"

Maera took all the time she needed to reply, choosing her words carefully, and looking to her mother as she did so. "From time to time, although no one is supposed to know, both of you have dealings with a certain wizard. Whose skin is blue. I suspect that both of you in turn know very well that this same wizard, from time to time, has appeared to various of your children—almost certainly including Belard and Talyss, and definitely including me—for his own reasons. I have always thought he was judging us, both individually and as part of House Tesmer, and therefore have obeyed him utterly."

Lady Tesmer stiffened.

"I've not found it necessary to obey him in that way, Mother; he has never asked that of me. Nor has he instructed me in working magic, beyond telling me that something he had seen me doing— without my knowing he was scrying—was right or wrong, futile or dangerous, or worth pursuing. With one exception."

They were both watching her very alertly now, leaning forward, and Maera saw menace in their eyes. If she said the wrong thing, the next few moments would undoubtedly be... interesting.

"The blue mage taught me just one small magic, and encouraged me to practice it often, telling me it would someday be quite useful. The magic is a small spell that does nothing at all, except elude most tracing spells that seek out magic, until a particular sort of spell reaches out to it. A tracer spell, cast by the same person who cast the first spell."

Her parents had relaxed. A trifle.

"So you cast this small spell on many portable items in Imtowers," Lady Tesmer said. A statement rather than a question.

Maera nodded.

"And either Belard or Talyss is unwittingly wearing or carrying some thing that you prepared in this manner right now, so you can—and have—traced them."

Maera nodded.

"Very clever, Maera. Leave telling us what the item might be, and about our Master's involvement with you, for another time. We, too, have work to do and other matters planned for our day than the pleasure you interrupted. So you've found Talyss and Belard, and are ready to show us where they are and what they're up to—and this, you believe, is vital to the future of the family. Well enough. Show us, and let us know and judge.

"Oh, and Maera? Well done."

Maera blinked, and felt herself blush. That was a little distressing, considering she thought she'd mastered control of her face and voice long ago, but then, praise from her mother was astonishing in itself.

"One moment," Lord Tesmer said crisply, astonishing her again. Isn't he supposed to be the weak one?

"I want this spell of yours banished in an instant, without showing us anything, if you know of any spell that can be used— by a Doom of Falconfar, say, not just by you or a lesser mage—to trace or identify us through it. Or even be aware of our scrutiny as we watch. Will they be able to see and hear us?"

Maera shook her head. "No, Father, they won't, and no, I know of no such spell. If I did, I'd never have dared try to find them in the first place. One thing neither Talyss nor Belard lack is malice."

"Show us, then, Maera," Lady Tesmer said gently, almost fondly. "I have missed our dear little Lyss. And Bel, too."

Maera almost winced at the acid in her mother's voice, but managed to keep her face expressionless as she nodded, turned, and waved her hand.

The roiling mists fell away like a dropped tapestry, leaving the three of them looking into another chamber as if through a window.

It was a high-roofed, formal room, and Talyss Tesmer was kneeling in it.

One of the watchers in Imtowers growled in rage. Surprisingly, it was Lady Telclara Tesmer.