Shadowmage: Book Nine Of The Spellmonger Series (77 page)

“Alas, I excel him only in humility,” agreed Tyndal.

“My lord, let me be candid: he has won my heart a thousand times over, since I first declared my intentions to him.  Every time I expect him to disappoint, he inspires.  He is tender when he wishes, resolute at need, and his mind is
always
working.  He has made me wish to be a better woman, something I once felt
no
man could do.  Ishi’s lips, even my father and brother like him!”

“So you
are
in love with him,” shrugged Tyndal. 

“That is no small thing, my lord,” Gatina said, gravely.  “For a woman such as myself, there are few in the world who would be a beneficial match.  Fewer still who would merit my attentions.  In Sir Rondal I have both of those, and more, for he seems to return my affections, despite his worries.  Therefore, he has my heart,” she said, putting a hand over her breast.  “Earned, not lightly given.”

“He’s a real treasure,” Tyndal grunted.  He did not understand women in the slightest, he realized. 
Again.

“Indeed.  And as a treasure, he is precious to me.  But not beaten and conquered, my lord – while some women would accept that, or even see that as their noble purpose in matrimony, I have no desire to dominate my love.  He is many things to me, but I am realizing, alas, that he would be none of them . . . without
you.”

“Without
me?
” Tyndal asked, startled.

“Aye, my lord,” she said, as if she were admitting something painful.  “Few women are willing to admit it, but as I have had to learn to be, in effect,
many
kinds of women in my vocation, it allows me a broader perspective.  Most women see a man they like and seek to conquer him, and in so doing they ruin the man they loved.  That way leads to bitterness and unease, and ultimately unhappiness.

“I, on the other hand, desire Rondal above all things, Tyndal, but recognize that I must proceed with
terrible
caution, else I risk destroying the thing most precious to me,” she said, sadly.  “I know enough of him to know I wish to be a part of his life, not force
him
to be part of
mine
.  Which means being a part of
your
life, too.  For he needs you,” she said, her expression odd.  “No matter how much he desires me and may love me, he
needs
you.  You keep him balanced, like ballast,” she said.

“Hardly the most poetic thing I’ve been called,” he conceded, “but then hardly the least flattering thing I’ve been called, either.  But Rondal doesn’t
need
me—”

“Then you misjudge your importance in his life,” Gatina assured him.  “I could no more take him away from you and expect him to thrive than I could wrest a plant from one of these pots and expect it to flower.”

“It is
your
flower I fear he will pursue, if only because it unnerves me,” Tyndal admitted, taking a seat beside her on the bench.  “Indeed, how could I blame him, when the enticement is so sweet?  My lady, it is no insult to point out your enchanting nature, and how it compels him.  He has always been shy with women, in the past, and I foolishly teased him about your affections, when we first met, thinking to goad him. 

“Now I regret it, for he has certainly developed more feeling for you than I anticipated.  Nor is it unreasonable that he would prefer the company of such a flower than . . . a mere pot,” he said, uncomfortably. 

“Yet he needs both to thrive,” she countered.  “Sir Tyndal, I seek not to capture him nor to conquer him, but to
follow
him.”

“Will you not desire to keep him at home with you and your children in domestic security, instead of him enduring the cold hardships of a life of errantry?”

“The two are not mutually exclusive, my lord,” she snorted.  “Unlike many women, I do not fear the hardships of an adventurous life.  He may esteem my ‘flower’, but I assure you it presents
no
impediment to vigorous pursuits . . . something for which my beloved is not only genuinely suited, but has found a way to do so in the service of the highest and most honorable ideals.  And I
never
wish to deter him from a path I delight in seeing him tread.”

“Do you not desire security, then, my lady?”

“I make my own security, Sir Tyndal,” she chuckled, drawing a dagger from some hidden place in her gown, displaying it to him, and returning it to its home without Tyndal being able to even guess where on her person that might be.  “Coin?  I have as much as I can steal, and a great legacy from my House.  Lands?  I have three estates of my own, pleasant and fair, a bequest from my grandmother.  Any of them would allow me to live in safety and plenty to the end of my days.  No, the security I seek is a man worthy of following, wherever he might lead.  I can stand poverty, hunger, hardship and pain, my lord, but I will
not
abide weakness in a man.”

“Would you not be content to chart your own course, my lady?”

“In candor?  No,” she said, simply.  “I know myself well enough to understand that while I am devoted and passionate, it is not in my nature to lead.  Sir Rondal, on the other hand, is a consummate leader.”

“You aren’t talking about joining the Order or the army, you know,” Tyndal said.  “You are talking about being his
wife
.”

“Yet a weak man makes a poor husband for a strong wife,” she countered.  “I require a man stronger than myself.  Rondal will never stay that, if you are not in his life.”

“He would do
fine
without me—”

“He would be
miserable
without you,” she objected.  “He’s miserable
now
, and you’ve had no more than a row.  Over
me
,” she snorted, amused.  “Me, barely a girl, and but a maiden, yet reducing grown and valiant knights to squabbling.  Perhaps that’s the dream of most girls, but I have developed
higher
aspirations.”

“That aspiration is my
best friend
,” Tyndal said, annoyed.

“What would you have me do, Tyndal?” she pleaded.  “I want you to be friends, again.”

“We’ll
always
be friends,” Tyndal countered.  “Look, Kitten, I really like you, myself.  You and Atopol are great friends to us, and a boon to our company.  And I even like you for Rondal, believe it or not – compared to the women he
usually
prefers, you’re a tall drink after a thirsty day. 

“But . . . let the man grow a bit first.  He’s barely become a man, yet he’s one of the oldest knights magi in the land.  He’s lost his home.  The poor bastard really only has me for family.  He’s done well despite that.  He’s just mastering being a man . . . don’t force him too quickly to the temple to be a
husband
,” he pleaded.

“As eager as I am for that day, Tyndal, I would prefer that it be with your enthusiastic support.”

“Well . . . sure, so would I,” he sighed.  “I want you two to work out, I suppose.  I just don’t want him to find himself miserable, if it does.”

Tyndal, where are you?
Rondal asked, suddenly, breaking into Tyndal’s mind with urgency.

In the garden, seducing your girl.  Why?

You’re with Gatina?  Good.  Just stay there.  We’ll join you in a moment.

“My brother is on the way,” Gatina said, a moment later.  “How
did
we exist before we could think to each other?”

“It was
hell
,” nodded Tyndal.  “Uh, he isn’t
mad
, is he?  While ending my evening with a duel would be dramatic, I’d rather not be killed over a fourteen-year old’s’ virtue.  One I don’t even have designs upon.”

“I think you are safe, Sir Tyndal,” Gatina giggled.  “He did not have an angry tone.  As long as my father doesn’t show up with a sword in his hand, I doubt there will be a problem!”

A moment later Rondal and Atopol approached.  Behind them was the tall figure of Lord Hance, who bore a concerned expression on his face, though his sword was sheathed.

“Your father, too?” Tyndal asked, leaping to his feet.  “I never—!”

“Relax!”
dismissed Atopol.  “Gatina’s kin are the least of your worries.  If you ever did anything to my sister she didn’t want, you’d be picking your fingers up off the ground right now.”

“We were just discussing the future,” Gatina said, rising.  “Why are you here, Daddy?”

“We came because Master Hance has news from Enultramar,” Rondal said, his face stony.  “He thought it best to share it with us before anyone else.”

“What is it?” Tyndal asked the senior shadowmage.

“Not good, I’m afraid,” he sighed.  “The spies we have in place are few, and expensive, but the investment paid off already.  I received word from one, a few hours ago.  It seems that your goblin friend is back.  He’s been talking to everyone who was at that auction, and then talking to everyone else he can, too.”

“Priviken?” Tyndal asked, curious.  “I figured he’d head back to whatever hole he came out of, after the Rats went bankrupt.”

“His goals for Enultramar are more permanent, I’m afraid,” Hance said.  “And his methods are insidious and difficult to counter.”

“What did he do?” Gatina asked.

“He’s
one
goblin,” Rondal dismissed.  “What
could
he do?  Did he bring a legion along, this time?”

“Worse,” Hance said, frowning.  “Although he does travel with an impressive retinue, now.  Through his agents he’s rented a manor house on the coast.  And he’s taking visitors: everyone who bid on the stones.  Because he brought a cask of witchstones, direct from the Dead God.”

All four of them gasped.  “He’s selling
irionite?
” Tyndal asked, his head dizzy at the thought.

“No,” Hance said, shaking his head in irritation.  “Even though he could be making fortunes doing so.  Instead he’s going to be
giving them away. 
To essentially any wizard who wants one.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

A New Mission

“This is unacceptable,” Minalan said, shaking his head.  “I cannot allow that much irionite to be floating around Enultramar in the wrong hands.”  The master of Sevendor had not let the occasion of the fete delay him.  He called an emergency war council at the castle, and ensured all interested parties were there to hear the intelligence.

“I agree, my lord,” Hance said, respectfully, though Minalan was his junior by several years.  “I find the prospect of that much uncontrolled power potentially catastrophic.”

“Tell me what you know,” the Spellmonger insisted, quietly.

“Quite simply, this goblin and a crew of . . . well, they are likely renegades, they arrived at the coast sometime last week.  They immediately gave five witchstones to the Censorate, replacing the two you stole and three more.  Now six Censors lord over the magi in the south.

“But he didn’t stop there . . . that swamp witch?  She got a stone.  That insufferable Coastlord twerp in the mask?  He got a stone.  Orril Pratt got a stone,” he added, “and didn’t have to pay a penny for it.  At least thirteen stones, so far, that we know of.  In a week surely one of those wizards is going to start getting disruptive.”

“Isn’t that what we want?” Pentandra frowned.  She and Arborn had made it to the Fair for a few days, at Anguin’s assistance.  She was swearing off travel by the Ways until she gave birth – after this, she claimed.  She had joined the impromptu council in Minalan’s laboratory, when he’d called the meeting upon Tyndal’s assistance.  “I don’t like the idea of a dozen Mad Magi running around, but then it isn’t our problem to deal with.  It’s the rebels.”

“There are more folk in Enultramar than the rebels, my lady,” Hance pointed out.  “And it becomes our problem when they start using that power to expand outside of the Bay and the Vale.”

“Are the rebels informed of this?” asked Rondal thoughtfully.

“No, not to our knowledge,” Hance assured.  “Unless you count the Brotherhood and Censorate factions, which are not particularly powerful.  Once these wizards get violent there won’t be much that they can do, save send the Censors after them.  I expect we’ll start to see them using their power soon, without other authority to stop them.  The temptation is incredible,” he admitted, sheepishly.

“I didn’t expect this,” Minalan admitted, guiltily.  “I figured they would try to infiltrate, perhaps even try to stir up the gurvani tribes on the Farisian peninsula, like they are the ones in the Kulines.  I never expected them to take this active a hand in Alshar’s affairs.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re dealing with goblins anymore, strictly speaking,” Tyndal observed.  “Korbal has the mind of an Alkan, which means he’s sophisticated and devious.  And he’s been around a few thousand years, which gives him an edge in experience.  Those are what are behind the recent flirtation with Enultramar.  The Enshadowed see the possibilities in Enultramar, while the gurvani merely see one long lunch table with a nasty wet place at the end.”