Nature's Peril Part 1 (The Nature Mage Series) (5 page)

A bead of sweat freed itself from Jonn’s forehead and rolled down the bridge of his nose as he bent down and placed his hands on either side of a crate. It was hot in the docks, the light of the sun reflecting up off the water as well as beating down on his handkerchief-covered head.

He’d been working for Belash for over a week now, and he still hadn’t made it off the docks. Men he knew to be higher up the food chain came to inspect deliveries, but then they went again, and Jonn never got the chance to speak with them.

Not that he’d know what to say!
Excuse me, I want to infiltrate your network. Can you tell me where Belash keeps his slave girls please?
Jonn would have smiled at that if he wasn’t so frustrated. Every day that passed was another day that Adela remained Belash’s captive. Who knew what she was going through? As usual, Jonn forced the thought away. That way lay madness.

The sound of hooves clattering noisily off the cobblestones distracted him from his thoughts, and Jonn looked up to see one of Belash’s horse-drawn carts pull up on the quayside. It was a cargo-carrier – an open, empty cart with a flat bed and short, wooden sides. There were two men up front – one was the driver and the other would be in charge of the shipment. Jonn glanced surreptitiously at the man in charge – a stocky, balding man with long arms and a naturally mean face. He looked impatient, scouring the dockyard with narrowed eyes as if looking for something. He didn’t look very approachable, but Jonn couldn’t fail to try and ingratiate himself with someone closer to the hub of Belash’s organisation.

Straightening up, he walked towards the driver, formulating a plan as he went. Whatever the bald man had come to pick up would need loading on the back of the cart, and it didn’t look like anyone was doing that yet, so that was his best route in. The bald man didn’t notice him until he was only feet away. Scowling at him in surprise, the stocky man sprang to his feet and jumped down to the quayside.

“What do you want?” he asked aggressively. Suspecting he’d made a serious mistake, Jonn had no choice but to continue with his charade.

“Thought you might want help loading the cart.”

The man squinted at him suspiciously, but some of the tension seemed to leak from his shoulders. He was obviously expecting something else altogether.

“TAREK!” a familiar voice called. Jonn winced as he turned to face Jack the Overseer as he barrelled across the dock towards him. “What do you think you’re doing? You should be stacking crates,” he asked furiously, spittle flying from his lips.

“I thought you might need help loading the cart, Sir,” Jonn responded. He’d seen dockers flogged for failing to call the overseer by his self-appointed honorific. Jack was the kind of man Jonn couldn’t stand. Small-minded and overly proud of his position as a minor functionary. He reminded him of Brill, who took unseemly pride in his position and used it to lord it over those only a single rung below him on the ladder.

“You don’t get paid to think!” Jack spat. “There’s a crew coming for this job and you’re not part of it, so get moving!”

“Yes Sir,” Jonn said, turning around and walking away. He was seething inside. Under normal circumstances, Jack would already be laid out on the ground, but he had no choice but to put up with this kind of thing until Adela was safe. After that, well perhaps he’d come back and teach Jack a lesson. He picked up a stray crate as he walked, carried it over to the stack and slammed it down. Frustrated by his failure to get a foothold on the next rung of the ladder in Belash’s organisation, Jonn found himself wondering if he’d ever manage to get off the docks.

…

It was a difficult couple of weeks for
Gaspi. Every day that passed felt like a day they couldn’t afford to waste, but they passed nonetheless as they waited for the return of the spirits. As his frustration grew, Gaspi started to doubt that postponing their decision about the quest indefinitely had been the right choice. He agreed that a lot hung on the elementals’ wisdom, but he couldn’t help feeling they should be taking action. He’d thought long and hard about what that action ought to be, and had come to the conclusion that they should set off on the quest to Pell. He’d wrestled with uncertainty about leaving Jonn behind, but neither he nor Hephistole had heard from him again since that day at the Rest, and he’d come to accept that this really was something Jonn had to do on his own. It might be months before he saw him again, and they certainly didn’t have the luxury of letting that time pass without taking action against Sestin. As for waiting for the elementals, that argument didn’t hold much water with him anymore. Loreill could sense where he was through the bond, so the elemental would be able to find them even if they had a head start.

He’d also had
a re-think about who should go on that quest. They’d been working on the assumption that all the spirit-bonded magicians should stay together, but they didn’t
know
that for certain. It was an assumption Rimulth had made (and which Hephistole had latched onto), because it had been true when they went to the Measure. Yes, it had been the right thing to do on that occasion, but why was everyone so convinced that it was still the case? In the absence of the spirits’ guidance, they simply didn’t know if that was true anymore, and he wasn’t happy with Emmy, Lydia or Rimulth undertaking such a long and dangerous journey if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. If it was up to him, he and Taurnil would leave with Voltan and the other warriors first thing the next day. The problem was that Hephistole didn’t agree.

Gaspi knew Hephistole
had taken Everand’s death very hard. They all had, but while they were all getting on with their lives, Hephistole seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into a hole of self-recrimination. Maybe if the chancellor could deal with the burden of guilt he was carrying, they could make a decision about the quest. Gaspi decided the best thing to do was to go and talk with him straight away. It was a long shot, but anything was better than waiting around doing nothing.

…

“Good to see you Gaspi,” Hephistole said as Gaspi stepped off the transporter plinth. Gaspi didn’t think he’d ever heard a less sincere greeting. He took one look at the chancellor and realised that things were much worse than he’d thought. Hephistole sat at his desk with bowed shoulders and a heavy expression, and he barely made eye contact with Gaspi as he walked across the room. Deeply concerned to find Hephistole in such a state, Gaspi walked around the desk and took the chancellor by the arm.

“Come on Heppy,” he said, tuggin
g on his elbow. Hephistole looked at him in surprise but didn’t object. He allowed himself to be led across the room to a more comfortable chair. “Take a seat while I make some tea,” Gaspi said.

“Ah Gaspi,” he said
, lowering himself into the chair and leaning back with a deep sigh. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Your compassion becomes you.”

Gaspi tapped his forefi
nger on each of Hephistole’s coloured tea jars, trying to decide what would serve the chancellor best. Thinking tea might bring him the clarity he needed, but then again he might have done too much thinking already. He picked up a burnt orange jar and levered off the lid, taking a sniff of the tea that brought out feelings of relaxation and contentment. It was the first magically enhanced tea Hephistole had ever given to him and it seemed to be appropriate in that moment.

Carrying the jar over to the ornate silver tea set,
Gaspi poured in some water and threaded power into it to heat it up. Within moments, steam was piping from the spout. Opening the orange jar, he took out a small mesh bag and a teaspoon, and placed some of the leaves into the bag before pulling its drawstring tight and dropping it into the hot water to steep. Placing the tea pot and two sets of cups and saucers on a tray, he carried them over and carefully placed them down in front of Hephistole. He took the chair opposite the chancellor.

Hephistole looked at him with curious eyes. “
Thank you Gaspi,” he said. “I can see you’re worried about an old man.”

“You’re not that old!” Gaspi responded. Admittedly,
Hephistole was pretty old – maybe fifty five – but he usually carried himself like a much younger man.

“Well I
feel
old,” the chancellor muttered, looking down at the floor. Gaspi’s concern escalated to full blown anxiety. It was a real blow to see Hephistole reduced to this. He had always seemed so indomitable, but here he was, acting for all the world as if he needed Gaspi more than Gaspi needed him. Gaspi didn’t know what to say, so he sat in silence, waiting for the tea to steep. When it was ready, he poured the amber liquid into both cups and passed one of them over by the saucer.

Hephistole took the tea and held it beneath his nose, breathing in the fragrance while waiting for it to cool down. A few moments later, he lifted the cup and took the tiniest sip, before leaning back against the back
of his chair and letting out another long sigh.

“Heppy,” Gaspi s
aid. “What’s going on with you?” He spoke gently, trying to tease a confidence out of him.

Hephistole
looked up and met his gaze with a look of infinite weariness. “It must be hard for you to see me like this,” he said.

“Not really,
” Gaspi lied. “When I was little, I’d sometimes wake up at night to find Jonn unconscious from drink. It didn’t happen often, but I used to look after him when it did. Everybody needs help sometimes.” For a moment Gaspi thought he could see moisture in Hephistole’s eyes, but if it was there, it didn’t form into tears.

“Thank you Gaspi,” he said
quietly. “Your kindness means a lot, but you cannot help me.”

“Why not?” Gaspi asked.

“Because this is exactly how I
should
be feeling,” Hephistole responded, and his expression crumpled. “I am first and foremost a teacher, and have failed in the worst possible way. Two of the students in my care have been lost – the first seduced by evil and the second murdered by the first.”

“But you couldn’t have…” Gaspi began.

“I could and I should!” Hephistole snapped, interrupting him. Gaspi clamped his mouth shut in shock. Heppy
never
spoke to him like that! Hephistole took a deep breath, calming himself. “I had plenty of time to intervene with Ferast, but I put it off until it was too late. None of you had to go to the Measure, but I sent you anyway, and when Voltan expressed his concerns, I failed to pull you out.”

Gaspi didn’t know what to say. All of that was true, but he didn’t think it came close to explaining what had happened. From the moment he’d met Ferast
the boy had been disturbed, and everything he’d done was an expression of that. He’d never shown any respect for authority figures, and there was no reason to think that Hephistole could have made any difference. The boy had gone off to seek the most infamous magician in the land and had become a murderer along the way. He was twisted – it was as simple as that. And as for the Measure, their reasons for going were sound, and they had all chosen to take part. They’d even had a quick escape plan in case things went wrong! No, Hephistole wasn’t being fair to himself at all. They lived in dark and dangerous times, and tragic as it was, they were going to lose some people along the way. He opened his mouth to say so, but Hephistole forestalled him with a raised hand.

“I know what you’re going to
say, but there’s just no point. I appreciate you trying to help me Gaspi, but it’s what
I
think that matters here, and
I
think I am responsible. I hope you will forgive my rudeness, but I’d prefer it if you would leave.”

“But w
hat about the quest?” Gaspi said. “The Darkman could be on its way right now!”

“I won’t act without the spirits’ guidance,” the chancellor
said sternly. “I cannot in all conscience send a group of young people into danger without absolute certainty it is the right thing to do. The matter is closed.”

“Voltan says you we
re sure of this a few weeks ago,” Gaspi said.

“Well I’m not anymore, and Gaspi, it is time for you to go.”

Frustrated, Gaspi thrust himself out of the chair and walked to the transporter. He stepped onto the plinth, wracking his brains to think of some last persuasive comment he could make.

“Atrium,” Hephistole said from his chair, and Gaspi was transported out of the Observatory. When he arrived in the Atrium, he banged his fist against his leg in anger. He had no idea you could activate the transporter when you weren’t actually on it!
There was no way Hephistole was going to let him back up again, and even if he did, he was clearly not in the mood to listen to reason. Gaspi stepped off the plinth, and as he stood there trying to decide what to do, an unthinkable idea started to form in his mind. It was madness, and yet the more he dwelt on it, the more it seemed like the right thing to do. He needed to speak to Taurnil right away. Spinning around, he paced out of the Atrium and set off through the campus.

…

It turned out that Taurnil was doing rounds, so Gaspi went looking for Drillmaster Trask and found him at the gatehouse.