Shadowmage: Book Nine Of The Spellmonger Series (49 page)

She was really here.  This was real.

Gatina came closer, close enough for him to smell the rich scent of her hair.  Her eyes seemed to get even larger as she stared into his from the back of her horse.

Oh, bloody
hell, he realized. 
Ishi’s got me by the root!

He’d considered a dozen light-hearted, witty things to say when she arrived, but as she slid to the ground and into his arms with the grace of a feline, she looked up at him with those glorious eyes.

“Beloved,” she whispered.

He couldn’t think of a damned word to say.  So he kissed her.

He didn’t remember much after that, not for a while, and what he did recall was accompanied by the most
amazing
feelings as he felt the delicious creature melt into his arms like an affectionate pet.  Her face nuzzled every inch of his as his mouth sought to confine the shape of her lips to eternal memory.

There were words spoken, but no sentences, not until Gatina’s slender hands pushed him away.

“We must pause, if only for a moment,” she insisted, breathless.  “Let me see to the horse and then we can enjoy our reunion properly.”

“I’ll handle the horse,” he volunteered.  “You must have been on the road a long time.”

“I love to ride,” she confessed, stretching her back in a most casual manner.  And entirely captivating.  “The country is beautiful, this time of year.”

“There’s a basin and ewer just inside,” he called, as he took the reins and led the gentle beast back to an overhang behind the cottage.  He found a sack of oats on the saddlebag, and tied it on to the horse before he unsaddled it and took Gatina’s small baggage inside.

“I love it!” she assured him, before his eyes adjusted to the light.  “Did it come this way?”

She had shed her dark mantle and unbuttoned her gown, and was washing her face in the pretty ceramic basin that the castellan of Rolone Castle didn’t have any more. 

“It’s lovely,” she sighed, as she patted her face dry with a towel.  “Charming, even.  Oh, Rondal, I have missed you so!”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, sincerely.  “Since I’ve last seen your pretty eyes, I’ve been in two wars,” he realized.  “Nothing too serious – although Lorcus is now Lord Lorcus of a surprisingly large part of Sashtalia,” he admitted.  “But I delivered the message from your father to the Duke, and have his reply,” he said, taking the sealed scroll from his bag.  “I don’t know the specifics, but in general Anguin is thrilled that he has such an able supporter, and wishes to establish a more direct relationship.”

“What do you mean?” Gatina asked, taking the letter.

“I mean that Anguin has authorized me and Tyndal to spy on the south, and prepare it against the day he returns,” Rondal said, hopefully.  “He wishes to begin the process by finding out who would support his restoration, and who is against it . . . and why.”

“That should be easy enough,” Gatina nodded thoughtfully.  “Daddy knows most of it already.”

“Excellent!  Which brings me to the next point: will House Salaines act as the eyes of Anguin, here?  Tyndal and I are really great at breaking things, but we need someone subtle enough to gather information without garnering suspicion.  Finally,” he said, grinning, “I have a gift for you.”

Gatina might have been an adept thief, a talented professional mage, and a noblewoman with a very clear sense of her own destiny . . . but when she heard about a gift, she behaved like a little girl, clapping her hands excitedly.

Rondal presented it to her: a small silver ring cunning wrought to resembled two cats playing.  It was Karshak-make, specially ordered from the jeweler in Sevendor.  He’d even fitted each cat’s eye with a tiny sliver of amethyst.

“Oh, Rondal, it’s
beautiful!
” she said, her pretty eyes growing wide.

“It’s more than that,” he assured her, drinking in her appreciation.  “I had a friend enchant it.  It has a couple of features, but most importantly it has two hoxter pockets associated with it.”

“Hoxter . . . pockets?” she asked, confused.

“Extra-dimensional spaces,” he tried to explain.  “Like a magical bubble on the surface of the magosphere . . . or something like that.  I’m not enough of a thaumaturge to understand it, but it might be the most useful bit of magic to come out of this resurgence.”

“What does it
do?
” she asked, intrigued.

“First, fetch your blade,” he instructed her, and she obediently took the slender, deadly-sharp sword from her baggage and presented it to Rondal with some ceremony.

“This is Kitten’s Claws,” she said, stroking the blade lovingly.  “Daddy had it specially made, when I demonstrated an interest in swordplay.  I’ve practiced with it every day since I was six.”

Rondal took the blade with reverence.  “When you need to get rid of this thing – say, the town watch is coming and it’s dripping with blood – then merely find affinity with the ring and pronounce the mnemonic . .
. urpa,”
he said, activating the spell.  The blade disappeared.

Gatina’s eyes got much wider
.  “What did you do with my sword?”
she demanded.

“
You
try!” he said, pushing the ring onto her finger.  “Just do what I said.  ‘
Urpa’
is—”

“Old Cormeeran for ‘claw’, I know,” she said, as she held the pretty ring out on her hand.  “
Urpa!
” she invoked.  When the sword appeared, she snatched it out of the air.  “That’s
incredible!
” she said, beaming broadly.  “This thing can be problematic, when you’re running around on rooftops!  Now I don’t have to worry about it!”

“There’s
more
,” he assured her, taking his coin pouch off of his belt and laying it upon the table.  “Hold your hand over it, and then activate it with the word ‘
anat
’ – ‘gone’ – and . . .” he said, holding her wrist.  She concentrated for just a moment and whispered the word.  The purse disappeared.

“See?” he said, excitedly.  “You can steal up to
fifty pounds
of just about anything that isn’t alive, and never have it on you if you’re searched.”

“That . . .
is
amazing!” she said, her eyes filled with wonder.  “Do you have any idea how this could revolutionize the larceny profession?”

“I thought you’d appreciate it,” Rondal said, glowing with her admiration.  “I have one for Atopol, too, but not as pretty.”  He didn’t mention the other function of the ring.  Under the amethyst in the cat’s eye was a tiny Waystone.  Now Rondal could find and come to Gatina wherever they might be.  Only he, Gareth, and the lapidary were aware of it – he hadn’t even told Tyndal. 

It wasn’t because he was obsessed with Gatina, he told himself; it was a matter of operations and security.  Being able to come to (and possibly rescue) an agent was a dramatic advantage in their new espionage organization.

“There are other things, too,” he assured her.  “Sympathy stones, some specialized wands, a few new
dahman
, and a large amount of documents we’ve recovered about the Brotherhood.  If your father is agreeable, I’d like for him to locate a headquarters for the effort.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” she agreed.  “Daddy has several safe houses.  He encourages all of us to have them, and caches for weapons and supplies, secret identities, accounts with goldsmiths and temples, all sorts of things.  It actually takes a
lot
of overhead to be a professional thief at our level,” she said, philosophically.  “But you really saw the
Duke?
”

“And will again, I’m sure,” Rondal nodded.  “Now that the rest of us High Magi can use the Alkan Ways – at least the score of us who have Alkan witchstones – we don’t have to spend all that time riding and trudging across country.”

“So . . . you just . . .
go away
, and then come back somewhere
else?
” she asked, trying to understand how the spell worked.

“Something like that,” he agreed.  “It should make things very convenient.  And very inconvenient for our enemies.”

“I can see that,” she nodded, approvingly.  “Oh, Ron, you’ve brought such wonders into our lives!  Into my life!”

He almost trembled as he accepted her kisses.

“Let’s have luncheon,” he said, finally pushing her off.  “You must be tired and hungry after your long ride.”

“Do you honestly think I rode nearly sixty miles through Rhemes to have
lunch
, Sir Rondal?” she accused. 

As he quickly discovered, no, she did not.

The two lovers spent much of the next day going through the protocols and codes they’d prepared for the effort, as well as speaking about the proposed heist of the Brotherhood’s treasury.  They traded outrageous suggestions for hours as they grappled with the problem.  With the preliminary information Gatina had been able to learn about the place, the idea began to fade.  The Mudfort, as the Rats called it, was widely suspected as the location of the secret vault, and it was in the middle of a swampy island in the middle of a treacherous lake in one of the poorest and most destitute regions of Enultramar. 

The more Rondal and Gatina talked about it, the less and less likely it seemed that anyone would be able to break into the heavily-guarded complex, break into the vault, and remove any significant amount of coin.

Yet Gatina continued to work on the problem, even as they kissed and held each other in front of the fire that night.

“You know, the hoxter pockets . . . they change everything,” she murmured sleepily.

“Yes, but it’s hard to use them if you aren’t actually close enough to your loot to use them,” Rondal pointed out.

Gatina closed her eyes for a moment . . . and then they shot open, a moment later, bright and alert.

“
I know how to rob the treasury!”
she declared, gasping at the idea.

“What?” Rondal asked, confused.

“I know how we can . . .
if
we can . . . but then
they
will . . .”

“Uh, can we try speaking in complete sentences?” Rondal suggested, gently.

“Ron, if we can fool . . . if they think . . . if you and Tyndal . . . oh,
sweet Darkness
!  This could be the
greatest heist in history!
” she insisted.

Before he could respond to her excitement, he felt the brush of mind-to-mind contact.  As annoying as it was to answer, he knew that he had duties to attend to.  Of course it was Tyndal.  His partner seemed to have an uncanny knack of knowing just when Rondal was considering making a move, and ruining it.  Now was no exception.

I hope you and Kitten have had a happy time,
he informed Rondal. 
Because your holiday mission is over, now.  I just got a message.  We’re needed in Sevendor.

Sevendor?  Why?  Did that bastard from Sashtalia break the truce?

Oh, much worse,
Tyndal told him, grimly. 
This didn’t even come from Minalan.  It came from
Alya. 
It seems the Arcane Orders have declared war on Baron Dunselen and his lady wife, Isily.  Alya needs our help to go yank their witchstones out of their hands.

“What is it?” Gatina asked, sleepily.  Her shift had fallen off of one shoulder, during their embrace, and she had not seen to replace it.  “Trouble?”

“Duty beckons,” he sighed, as he sat up and looked around for his tunic.  “I just got the message.  I have to go back to work.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ruminations

“Ferocious flames of a smithies’ fire

Cold compared to our hearts’ desire

Urgent emotion compels all to wed

For comfort of table, hearthside and bed;

Let no man confound love’s truest path

Let no woman forestall it by duplicity or craft

When love and lust and Nature conspire