The Swordsman's Oath

A letter written by the Archmage Holarin of Imat River in

the 3rd year of Emperor Aleonne the Valiant,

(original held in the Archive of the Archmage,

Trydek’s Library, Hadrumal).

Dear Dretten,

I note with interest your news of increased Relshazri trade with the Islanders from the Aldabreshin Archipelago. Now that you are living in the city, it is important that you understand somewhat of the basis of their hostility to magic, if only for your own protection. Most will tell you this antipathy stems simply from blind prejudice; this may be true in some cases but the origins of such a prevalent bias go much deeper. I will attempt to explain, given the limits of our present knowledge.

Although the Aldabreshi do not worship the gods as we do, it is a mistake to dismiss them as unthinking barbarians. The complex philosophies of the Archipelago are spun from their observations of the natural world, the behavior of animals, the seasons of flower and fruit, the shifting patterns of the stars and moons. More than this, the Aldabreshi believe in a wide range of unseen forces at work in the world about them. They have no concept of the Otherworld, rather believing that the essence, the spirit of a dead person, remains an intangible part of their household, their family. Do not mistake my meaning; they do not worship their ancestors like the barbarians of the far West, but see both the deceased and the still unborn as continuously linked to the living. Imagine, if you will, a tree felled by a storm later sending up a shoot that blossoms, death, growth and the prospect of new life all contained within the one plant.

The Aldabreshi believe that all things, material and intangible, seen and unseen, are linked and interdependent, hence their many and varied methods of divination, practiced freely by all levels of their society. A Warlord will quite literally hold or commit his forces to battle depending on his interpretation of the flight of a flock of birds. His prospects when hoping to take a wife will stand or fall on the movement of precious stones placed on a hot sheet of metal. Aldabreshin astronomy has reached heights of sophistication that we can only envy; they believe actions at a time of eclipse can benefit an individual enormously or, conversely, promote an enemy’s ruin. Day-to-day life is influenced in countless minor ways by the most trivial events, while major events such as eruptions or tempests can lead to warfare, reconciliation or some other entirely unexpected conclusion. There seem to be few fixed rules; if there are, we have yet to discover them.

Putting such store in random events may seem whimsical and even futile to ourselves, with our generations of more sophisticated learning and debate, but that is not my point. This principle of belief is central to Aldabreshin life and holds the key to their hatred of magic. To see the elements that make up all living matter deliberately manipulated and altered by a wizard is at once obscene and supremely menacing in their eyes. Magic is a chaotic, destructive force; it is inconceivable that it could be used for good. Whatever temporary advantage might accrue would be as nothing compared to the damage done. One might just as well set light to the corner of a tapestry in an attempt to illuminate the whole.

You will understand therefore, when I advise you to steer well clear of Aldabreshi traders. Their hostility will remain implacable and any attempt to win them over will only place you in peril. Remember the foul torments reserved for those convicted of practicing magic in the islands of Archipelago.

The Palace of Shek Kul, the Aldabreshin Archipelago, 6th of For-Summer

I looked at the mess that Laio invariably managed to create and hurried through a perfunctory tidy-up, not about to waste the only chance I’d had so far of exploring the compound on my own. Strapping on my sword in case the Ice Islander came snooping, I left my armor rolled in its corner. Wearing it without being in attendance on Laio would simply make me too noticeable. Walking briskly down the stairs, head high and confident, I nodded to the pages who were bent over some incomprehensible game of colored stones in their little vestibule.

Once outside, I walked purposefully in the direction of the main gate, racking my brains for some excuse to give at the gate that might get me down to see what else the foreshore might offer as a means of escape. I might have a chance if some of the younger guards were on duty, all cocksure arrogance in freshly burnished chainmail, the type I remembered only too well from my days training Messire’s militia levies. Would there be any possibility of stowing away on a galley from another domain? What good would it do me if I could?

The path turned a corner around a glossy tree whose razor edged leaves I had learned to respect and I took a hasty step backward into its cover as Kaeska Shek entered the compound. She was plainly dressed in white cotton, a long scarf worn up over her head, which she hastily removed as she entered. Pausing to look behind her before she crossed the threshold, she said no word to the guards as they opened and closed the tall black gates for her. Her hands were clasped at her midriff, holding something close.

“And where have you been, my lady, while Mahli’s laid up in child-bed?” I wondered.

I looked at the gate guards; a trio of hard-faced men a handful of years older than myself with a generation more experience of guile and deception, if Laio was any guide to life in the Archipelago. Abandoning any hope of getting outside the compound, I listened to the soft sounds of Kaeska’s stealthy steps on the stony path instead. The more evidence I could get against the woman, the safer I would be. I took a path between dense stands of a ubiquitous berry-plant that thrived on the rich black soil, its dark leaves providing excellent cover. Advancing slowly, I saw Kaeska’s bright hair through the foliage and after a moment’s thought realized she was sitting on the stone edge of a fountain basin where a motley collection of fish lived their lives in aimless circles.

I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing and stood stock. still, burning with frustration until she rose and walked briskly in the direction of the main residence. I followed after allowing her a suitable distance, glancing briefly at the fountain as I passed. What I saw stopped me in my tracks. Several of the dull, bluish fish were floating on the surface of the water, their pale bellies stark, fins flapping feebly and in one instance not at all.

I quickened my step, determined not to loose sight of Kaeska as I tried to work out what play she was setting the board for this time. There were various fountains with fish in them around the compound and she visited them all in her apparent wanderings. Her path also took her through the section of the grounds where each wife had an aviary where she kept a variety of birds, some bright and tuneful, others with no apparent virtue unless they tasted better than they looked. As Kaeska mounted the steps to the main residence, I wondered if she was heading for those creepy lizards in the dining hall. All these animals had some significance that I had yet to determine. All I had established so far was that the first thing Laio did each morning was release a bird from her balcony and study its flight intently. What it chose to do could significantly affect her mood for anything up to the rest of the day; I had already learned to be wary on the mornings the stupid creature headed for the mountain that dominated the center of the island.

Was Kaeska poisoning the fish an end in itself? Was she testing the efficacy of whatever it was she had concealed inside her gown before slipping someone else a dose? I had better warn Laio and Grival too, I decided. He would be able to keep Kaeska from getting too near the baby, wouldn’t he? Newborn babes must be even more vulnerable than usual in this pestilential climate and Kaeska might be hoping to pass its death off as a natural tragedy.

I walked briskly back to the residence and hurried up the stairs, pleased to hear voices above. As I reached the top floor, Mahli turned the corner, leaning heavily on Shek Kul’s arm, Grival offering support on her other side. She looked at me without apparent recognition as some spasm seized her and wrenched a hoarse groan from the very depths of her being. Laio and Gar appeared, wiping her forehead, murmuring encouragement, rubbing her back until the torment passed. Mahli began her ungainly progress again, muttering a startling selection of Grival’s practice-ground obscenities under her breath. The woman looked to be in extremis to me but the midwife was smiling and nodding and, since no one else was either panicking or shouting, I had to suppose they knew what they were doing. I certainly didn’t, childbirth being an exclusively female mystery in decent Tormalin households.

I stepped forward, hoping to speak to Laio, but she waved me off with a scowl and an unmistakable dismissal. I moved backward again, frustrated but not about to risk pressing the issue given the tension knotting Laio’s brows. I went down the stairs, increasing my pace somewhat when Mahli let loose a gut-wrenching yell which I swear rattled the shutters as I passed them.

Turning a corner on the ground floor, I came face to face with the Elietimm. This time, rather than challenging me, he looked startled, almost frightened and turned instantly on his heel, running down a white-tiled passage that I knew led to the suites of reception rooms each wife commanded. I was about to head in the opposite direction when intense curiosity seized me and I found myself following the man into the labyrinth that made up the lower level of the residence. Apprehension warred with a sudden, iron determination to find out what that precious pair were up to, but I locked the warning away in the back of my mind, dimly thinking how Aiten would have mocked such uncharacteristic behavior but dismissing the notion.

The sound of a door shutting drove all such considerations out of my head. It was the main entrance to Kaeska’s reception rooms and I could hear a faint murmur of voices, which set my frustration fully alight. Moving slowly, bare feet silent on the marble floor, I edged toward the door, but I could still hear nothing clearly. Well, with the penalties for using magic around here, she was hardly going to be chanting sorceries at the top of her voice. I caught my breath as I heard a low-voiced murmur, cursing silently to myself as I saw that a muffling curtain had been drawn across the inside of the door, scarlet silk bright against the black wooden slats.

“When the child is born, you will take this message to my cousin, Danak Nyl. He will tell you—”

Who was Kaeska talking to?

“Behind you!”

In the instant that voice sounded inside my head a shadow fell across the wall in front of me and I looked back to see the Elietimm priest, arm raised as he brought down a mace to spill out my brains across the patterned tiles. I launched myself forward, crashing straight through the flimsy louvers of the door, saving my skull but taking an agonizing strike on one thigh. I found myself face to face with a startled Kaeska; she was on her own and with a shock of understanding I cursed myself for an imbecile, taking their bait like that.

“Seize him!” The Elietimm was ripping the tattered drape aside as Kaeska fluttered like a startled cage-bird. She made a futile grab for me and squealed with a mixture of outrage and fear when I put both hands around her narrow waist and threw her bodily at her enchanter. They went clashing to the floor and I ran for the shutters that opened to the gardens, vaulting over a day-bed in my haste to get away. Excruciating pain in my leg felled me like a poleaxed beast as I landed and lost my footing. I rolled around, screaming, clutching my thigh where the mace had landed. When I could blink the tears of agony from my eyes, I looked down to see ivory shards of bone sticking through a ruin of bloody flesh, torn rags of skin. Dast’s teeth, how had he done that much damage with just the one glancing blow? As I whimpered with the torment of it, the bastard came to gloat over me, a mocking cadence to the incantation he was running under his breath.

“More fool you, dungface,” I thought savagely, using the last of my strength and will to kick out with my sound foot, catching the priest in the side of the kneecap with a strike I’d used to disable bigger men than him. Sure enough, he fell like cut timber, screeching as the fine-turned legs of the day-bed splintered under his weight. I caught a mean kick in the kidneys from Kaeska for my trouble, but that hardly bothered me. As soon as the priest’s incantation had unravelled, the agony in my thigh vanished, my hands were gripping bruised but otherwise unbloodied flesh and I scrambled to my feet, shaking with a combination of rage and terror. The bastard was messing with my mind again, scrambling my own wits to trick and betray me. Shoving Kaeska full in the belly, I sent her clean off her feet into a rack of delicate vases, which shattered beneath her. I spared a scant breath to hope she collected a good few shards in her arse, the vicious bitch.

I looked swiftly toward the corridor to see if the uproar had brought any slaves to offer me unintentional protection, but that faint hope proved worthless. I dragged a hand across my eyes and swore vilely as all sense of direction dissolved beneath the insistent pulse of another enchantment in my ears, the meaningless words rebounding from the walls as the room swum before my unfocused eyes. I swung around to face the priest, hands reaching for his blurred form, but he had somehow recovered his mace. I backed off as he hefted it with worrying expertise. He drew a dagger from his belt with his off hand and tossed it to Kaeska. “Hamstring him.”

“You just try it, you slack-arsed whore,” I snarled, not taking my eyes off the Elietimm. He just smiled. I felt the blood start to pound in my head, temples throbbing, my vision darkening and my feet stumbling numbly as the earth seemed to tilt beneath me. As my senses dissolved, I groped blindly for the hilt of my sword and as I laid nerveless fingers on the pommel I heard Guinalle’s precise tones inside my head.

“Of course, a simple ward can be very effective. Try this— ‘Tur-ryal, tur-ryal, tur-ryal.’ ”

I heard a voice that was not my own echoing the meaningless syllables, using my lips in this strange trick of memory. The girl spoke again. “You see, I can’t make your feet cold now, can I?”

I blinked as my sight cleared and drew a breath of release deep into my lungs as I saw the priest’s jaw drop with horrified astonishment.

“You swore they had no true magic,” he spat, his eyes shifting to a point over my off shoulder. That told me where Kaeska was, so I tore my sword free of its scabbard, sweeping it around in a glittering arc. If I had to answer to Shek Kul for gutting her, so be it; I had to get myself free of this snare first. Kaeska squealed and I heard her scuttle backward, the dagger clattering to the floor. I brought the sword to the front and moved swiftly toward the priest, who was between me and my escape to the gardens. Now he was the one backing away but he began another complicated pattern of words and I felt a chill of confusion hover around me, greedy fingers of enchantment ripping away whatever frail shield that strange incantation had given my mind. I couldn’t win this fight, not on these terms.

Yelling a full-throated curse at the bastard, I raised my sword high above my head, both hands on the hilts as I charged at him. Not surprisingly, he recoiled, stumbling over a low stool. I shoved him aside with my shoulder as I brought my sword down on the flimsy latch of the shutters, sending them swinging wildly as I fled to the uncertain safety of the gardens. Running past several startled gardeners, I headed for the practice ground the body slaves shared with the guards, tucked behind the slave quarters. To my intense relief, Sezarre was there, sitting and brooding over a grid drawn in the dirt as he played some solo variant of the Aldabreshi stone game.

“Your leg—” he frowned, abandoning his puzzle as he saw my torn trousers and darkening bruises.

“Kaeska and her visitor, the white-headed man,” I said succinctly, dropping to a bench with a shuddering sigh of relief. Sezarre moved with the instincts of long training to strip away the tattered cloth and wipe down the rapidly swelling and badly scored thigh with an astringent that made me hiss through my teeth. For all that, I realized well enough I was lucky not to have taken the full force of the blow; the bastard could have broken the bone in reality if he’d caught me right, not just crippled me with an illusion woven inside my mind.

“What is this about?” Sezarre asked urgently as he rubbed a salve into the deep scratches, something I’d done for him and Grival often enough since arriving here.

“Kaeska is plotting to kill Mahli and the baby—she is convinced she can then have a child of her own and become First Wife again.”

Sezarre shook his head with a wordless exclamation of contempt.

“The man is not here to trade, he has come to help Kaeska by using magic against Mahli and Shek Kul.”

Sezarre’s hands halted at that and he looked up at me, eyes wide, mouth half open in astonishment.

“I swear this is the truth.” I held his gaze with mine. “I have seen such men as these at work before. Their enchantments killed a friend of mine, closer than my brother. This magic stole his mind and turned his blade against me.”

The pain in my voice as I talked of Aiten more than made up for my remaining deficiencies in the Aldabreshin tongue; Sezarre was convinced, no question of it.

“You have told Laio?”

I nodded. “She wished Gar to know before Kaeska is accused to Shek Kul.”

Relief was plain on Sezarre’s face. “Gar would not be involved in any such scheme, you must know this for certain.” he insisted. “Not magic, of all things, and never to harm the child.”

“Of course,” I assured him. “Laio never imagined that she would.”

“Magic,” he repeated with an expression of revulsion. “That Kaeska would stoop so low…” Words failed him and he shook his head again.

“They know that I can expose them,” I gestured at my bruises. “They will kill me if they can.”

“Not while I am with you,” replied Sezarre grimly. The thought of his sword arm at my side was certainly a reassuring one. “Can you walk?”

I nodded, stood and followed Sezarre as he walked rapidly to the main gate and summoned the commander of the guard, a thick-set, dark-skinned Aldabreshi I was used to seeing deep in discussion with Shek Kul. I couldn’t follow much of their conversation but the gist was plain enough when the guard on the gate was doubled and liveried retainers with drawn swords went out, four by four, to quarter the grounds of the compound.

“Will they detain Kaeska if they find her?” I asked Sezarre as he strode toward the main residence, face stern, hand on his sword hilt.

“She will be required to explain herself to Shek Kul,” he answered in tones of unmistakable threat.

We went to Kaeska’s reception rooms, where the torn silk curtain flapped forlornly in the breeze and the wreckage of the room gave its own mute testimony.

“Why would she do this?” Sezarre shook his head. “Who is this man that he has such a hold over her.”

“He’s an enchanter who can get inside minds and twist them to his will.” In all justice, I felt I had to keep reminding these people how Kaeska was being manipulated by that bastard Ice Islander.

We left the room through the doors to the garden and watched as the guard commander met a couple of troopers, their shaking heads making it clear there was no sign of the quarry.

“And Kaeska has been killing the fish as well,” I remembered abruptly. “Why would she do that?”

Sezarre reacted with a surprising display of horror at this news. “She wishes to make bad omens for the child,” he spat with disgust. “Show me!”

I led the way swiftly to the poisoned fountain and Sezarre stared at the handfuls of dead fish that now littered the water.

“We will deal with this,” he said with a determined nod.

Seconding a startled gardener with a few brisk words, Sezarre set about getting the fountain emptied and scalded clean while he and I checked the other fish, birds and animals. I couldn’t have told if the lizards were ailing as they sat glassy-eyed and impassive on their rocks and tree branches, but Sezarre was confident they were unharmed, explaining that they had some significance for the Warlord that I have to confess escaped me. Dead song-birds were easier to spot and Sezarre went straight to the steward who soon had a lad picking the sad little corpses from the floor of the aviaries belonging to Laio and Mahli. From the seriousness of the expressions all around me, I gathered this went beyond mere malice toward the other women’s pets on Kaeska’s part, but no one seemed to want to discuss it further.

The steward went to speak to the gate guards and I followed Sezarre to a wrinkled old man who wailed aloud at the tale, his voluble lamentations only shocked to silence when Sezarre told him about Kaeska bringing an enchanter to the island. As more people became involved in frustrating Kaeska’s mean and paltry plot with the animals, the word of her conspiring with a sorcerer spread and with some apprehension I wondered how Laio would react to this. She wasn’t going to be best pleased to learn that the best rune in her hand had already been played without her consent.

On the other side of the scales, I soon realized I had inadvertently earned a good measure of approval among the general household, receiving nods and smiles and incomprehensible remarks that nevertheless carried unmistakable overtones of gratitude and approbation. I even managed to go outside the gates, carrying a basket of dead birds and fish that we spread on a stretch of crab-infested beach. I was discreetly looking around to see if any possibilities that might lead to an escape plan were apparent, when shouts of excitement erupted all around me, everyone looking at the sea with expressions of delight while at the same time backing hurriedly away to the tree line. Caught unawares by this, I found myself alone on the sand, staring at the monstrous form undulating slowly down the narrow strait.

It was a sea serpent. All my mother’s childhood assurances that there were no such things, that they were only tales like the Eldritch kin, went for nothing as I watched the massive, leathery black coils rise and fall, a long glaucous fin running the length of the beast, scattering a shining shower of droplets as it broke the surface of the sea. It was not scaly, like a snake or even a fish; its skin was dull and rough textured, oily-looking as water streamed off it in twisted rivulets. An immense head rose above the turbid waters for an instant, long and blunt-nosed, as thick as the huge body with no suggestion of a neck; a vast mouth filled with yellow needle-like teeth gaped for an instant, tiny black eyes almost invisible against the darkness of its skin. Questing, head raised for a moment as the Islanders fell silent in frozen awe, the great beast abruptly disappeared beneath the roiling waters, the last flick of its tail slapping across the strait.

The excitement all around me was as nothing I had ever experienced, cheers and shouting ringing in my ears, the commotion spreading as the crowd carried me back toward the residence, word spreading in all directions. Still half disbelieving what I had just seen, all I could think was that if I got off this island it wasn’t going to be by swimming.

“What is all this about?” I demanded of Sezarre when I was able to fight my way through the throng to his side.

“To see Rek-a-nul—that is an omen of the strongest kind, a great mark of the day,” he assured me, smiling broadly. “You will have great good luck.”

I’d believe that if I survived all this without my own involvement with magic being revealed or finding an Elietimm knife in my back.

For the rest of that day Sezarre stayed so close to me you’d have thought I was carrying his purse. There was no sign of Kaeska or the Elietimm, to my profound relief. As we made repeated circuits of the gardens, fountains and aviaries, there were no more deaths among the hurriedly replaced birds and fish, brought from Talagrin knows where by a succession of shocked-looking islanders. Mahli continued to labor in childbed; we heard intermittent cries from the top floor of the residence when our paths took us periodically under the high walls and in an exchange of glances that needed no translation shared our rather guilty relief that neither of us would ever be called upon to bear a child. Finally, as the sun was hovering orange and massive on the horizon, a thin, high wail pierced the expectant silence that had descended over the entire compound. The place erupted with cheers and shouting as more people than I had imagined lived there emerged from every doorway.

I followed Sezarre as he forced a way through the throng toward the residence. A question was shouted at him from all sides and he laughed as he nodded his acquiescence. I saw pottery shards being exchanged in all directions and suddenly understood. The Aldabreshi may not drink anything stronger than their piss-poor wine or take smoke or leaf, but they are the keenest gamblers I’ve ever come across. One evening, not so long before, I’d caught Laio and Mahli betting a fortune in gems on the tiny yellow lizards that were climbing the walls of the dining room.

“Boy or girl?” I pulled at Sezarre’s shirt.

“I say boy.” He grinned at me. “I wager five days of taking dishes back to the kitchen.”

I laughed and took the scrap of earthenware he passed me, the token covered in looping Aldabreshin script.

Laio and Gar were standing together in the corridor when we reached the top floor of the residence. Both looked drained and disheveled, heedless of bloody smears on their clothing. Gar stepped forward to embrace Sezarre in a surprising display of emotion, tears glistening on her cheeks. I looked uncertainly at Laio, who seemed to be on the verge of crying herself. She shook herself like a kitten caught in a shower of rain and clutched at my hand. “Come and see our new son.”

So I was in for five days of maneuvering overloaded trays down the stairs and corridors while Sezarre took life a little easier. Smiling nonetheless and shaking my head at him as he grinned over Gar’s head, I followed Laio to Mahli’s rooms where the new mother lay in a bed of fresh quilts, reclining against Shek Kul’s shoulder. She was cradling a tiny bundle of snuffling cotton swaddling topped with a tuft of thick black hair that certainly suggested he was Shek Kul’s child. Mahli smiled at me and I managed to smile back, although I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look quite so exhausted and still remain conscious.

Shek Kul looked over her head at me and addressed me directly for the first time since I was caught up in this whole mess.

“This is my son, Shek Nai. You will protect him as if he were blood of your blood.”

I looked at the tiny, fragile face, eyes screwed shut against the strangeness of the world, and nodded; that much was no hardship, no threat to any other allegiance I held. I looked around for Laio, wondering how soon she was going to act to remove the threat of Kaeska’s malice that was hanging over this infant life. She must have read this in my face, a faint frown marring her brow as she gestured me out of the room with a shake of her head.

“Is Mahli all right?” I asked as we headed for Laio’s apartments, walking the customary pace behind her. I only have a hazy notion of the sorts of things that can go wrong for women in child-bed but I’ve seen a handful too many men of my acquaintance sobbing as they place a crimson urn in a shrine to Drianon.

“She’s come through it very well. The midwife is delighted,” Laio nodded. “The aspects of the heavens are highly propitious as well. We must make sure the stars are fully recorded.” She looked upwards, her mind clearly occupied elsewhere. I couldn’t help that.

“When are you going to tell Shek Kul about Kaeska and her magician?” I demanded.

“What are you talking about?” Laio turned from pouring herself a drink from a jug of fruit juice. “You mainlanders only make a note of the sun or which moon is uppermost, don’t you? Do you know the time of your birth? We could chart your stars if you do—”

Of all the irrelevancies I could imagine her wanting to discuss, the fact that I was born under the lesser moon seemed the most pointless.

“Kaeska and the magician attacked me today, look at my leg. I could have been killed. She has been using poisons; she has tried to kill the fish and the birds.” I wondered with a cold horror where the bitch had been creeping while Sezarre and I frustrated her plans in the gardens. Any standing drink could have been fouled. I dashed the porcelain cup from Laio’s hands; it shattered on the floor, sticky juice splashing us both. Laio was too taken aback even to rebuke me.

I knelt with a curse as my bruised leg protested and touched a finger to a puddle of juice, smearing it on my lip and waiting tensely for any burning or numbness that would betray any taint. Laio listened, astounded as I told her about my eventful day.

“I will get you a fresh drink from the kitchens,” I told her firmly. “So we can be sure it’s safe.” I strode off, determined that Laio should denounce Kaeska as soon as possible, refusing to countenance this degree of uncertainty and fear.

On my return, I found Laio in the bathroom, stripping off her bloodied and juice-spattered clothing. I handed a cup and retreated in some confusion. It had been easy enough to ignore her tempting form when I had thought any hand laid on her would be instantly hacked off by an outraged Warlord. It seemed her earlier revelations had removed that particular chain on my desires and the old dog was up and barking. To my relief this appeared to be one nuance of our relationship that Laio was failing to comprehend as she emerged, hair tied up in a silken scarf, a loose yellow chamber robe belted negligently over her nakedness. Her expression was still thoughtful.

“When you find a moment, ask Sezarre for some green oil, will you? I want some of the first pressing, do you understand? I know Gar has some and that’s the best.”

Wondering why the topic of conversation had suddenly turned to condiments, I nodded my understanding nevertheless, turning to find something else to look at. “The flavor is so much better.”

“Ryshad!” Laio half laughed and half gasped. I looked around to see her blushing, unmistakable even given her complexion. “I didn’t think you mainlanders went in for that kind of thing!”

I looked at her uncertainly. “What do you mean?”

Laio rubbed a hand over her mouth, smiling now though her eyes were still startled. “What do you mean?”

We looked at each other for a moment, the noise of the revelry below invading the silence of the room.

“We prefer the first pressing of green oil for dressing fresh vegetables,” I said cautiously. “What do you use it for?”

“Keeping ourselves from pregnancy!” Laio giggled, hands cupping her face. “I want a bit more time to think about having a child now I’ve seen what Mahli’s had to go through!”

Caught off guard like that it was my turn to blush and I cursed as I felt the heat in my cheeks.

“So what do mainlander women do,” Laio’s eyes were bright with mischief, “to keep themselves without child?”

I ran a hasty hand through my hair. “I don’t know.” I quelled a sudden memory of the pot of salted cedar resin my father had given me in his workshop, together with some very straight talking, the day after I had laid my first whiskers on Misaen’s altar.

Laio moved closer and laid a hand on the bare skin of my arm. The hairs rose like a hound’s at her touch. “Come to that,” she purred, “what do you mainlanders do—”

A loud knock interrupted her and Sezarre stuck his head around the door. “The tree-planting will be done at moonrise,” he said to Laio before ducking out again.

The thread between us snapped. “I’ll want the blue gown with the feather-patterned wrap,” she instructed me briskly. “I’m going to wash my hair.”

Not sure whether I should be cursing Sezarre or blessing him, I obeyed and was pleasantly surprised to find I was also allowed plenty of time to wash and dress myself in a new green tunic and trousers that Grival brought by, a gift from Mahli apparently.

As the last half of the greater moon rose over the distant horizon, the black stone of the keep grim in the cold, bluish light, I followed Laio down the stairs and into the inner garden at the heart of the residence. I kept close to her, alert for instruction or reprimand as the air was thick with expectation and a sense of ritual, slaves from the household lining the walls, silent and respectful. Laio moved to stand next to Gar and I exchanged a fleeting glance with Sezarre. He tilted his head a finger’s width and I saw Kaeska on the far side of the garden, Irith standing behind her, swaying slightly, mouth slack, no spark of life in his eyes. The Elietimm stood next to her, hair startlingly white in the night, his jaw set as he stared at me, unmistakable hatred crackling across the distance that separated us. I touched Laio’s shoulder and leaned forward slightly.

“I know,” she murmured. “Wait.”

A stir ran through the waiting assembly as a far door opened and Shek Kul entered the garden, Grival beside him carrying a silver bowl draped with a silken cloth.

Laio tilted her head back a little to whisper to me. “That is the—” she struggled for the right words in formalin, “it comes with the baby, nourishes it in the womb.”

“Afterbirth.” I was very glad I was not Grival; my determination to be long gone from here before Laio found herself brought to child-bed instantly doubled.

Shek Kul was dressed in a plain green tunic and, working without ceremony, dug a deep hole in the rich earth in the middle of a stand of five trees of varying heights. Grival emptied his burden into it and then one of the gardeners brought a new sapling, which Shek Kul planted with a surprising air of competence, firming down the black soil with a large foot. The gardener bowed low and spoke to the Warlord, who shot a startled and unfriendly glance at Kaeska. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the ground and I saw Laio bridle as she observed this exchange.

Gar turned her head to catch my eye. “The growth of the tree will guide us as to the health and nature of the child. Its leaves will be used in divination.”

I nodded, hardly about to say I’d seldom heard anything so improbable.

Laio stirred again and as Shek Kul wiped his hands on a towel proffered by the steward, she took a pace forward. A discreet ripple of surprise ran through the assembly and Laio lifted her chin, by every measure a Warlord’s lady.

“My husband, just as you do your duty to protect our new son, the hope of the domain, I must act to counter a grave peril that nests in our midst like a venomous snake.”

Her clear voice echoed around the tall stone walls and Kaeska’s head snapped upwards, her eyes wide, whites stark in the pitiless moonlight as she stared at Laio in horror.

“I accuse Kaeska Danak of suborning sorcery, to further her plans to kill our son and to regain her status as First Wife with a child born of enchantments.”

There was no triumph in Laio’s voice, none of her earlier glee, simply an implacable ring of truth. The hiss of indrawn breath all around us was followed by murmurs of consternation from all directions.

Shek Kul raised a hand and the throng were silent as a grave. “These are capital charges that you bring.” He spoke directly to Laio as if no one else were present. “What is your proof?”

Laio gestured backward over one shoulder. “The word of my body slave.”

All eyes were instantly upon me and I stood, motionless, expressionless, as my mind raced, wondering what would happen next.

Shek Kul looked back at Kaeska and then studied me as the entire gathering held its collective breath.

“I will hear this case at sunset tomorrow,” he announced finally, tossing the towel to Grival and striding back inside the residence as the crowd erupted into a frenzy of speculation. I struggled to keep Kaeska in view as Laio led the way back to the stairwell. This was not at all what I had expected.

“What happens to Kaeska?” I looked around in vain for guards or Household slaves. “Where will she be held? Where is the Warlord’s dungeon?”

Laio halted on the stairs and turned to look down at me.

“Kaeska will not be detained in any way.” Her tone was puzzled. “The household guard will be on alert, that will be sufficient to dissuade her from anything foolish.”

“Why ever not?” I demanded. “What is Shek Kul thinking of? Now she knows we’re onto her, she has a night and a day to work whatever malice she wants!”

“Not with every eye on her, knowing she is accused,” commented Sezarre, rather to my surprise. “Anyway, Shek Kul is hearing the case as soon as possible, at the very start of the day following the accusation.”

Of course, one of the many peculiarities of Aldabreshin life is the way they measure each day from sunset to sunset.

“Even the lowest slave is entitled to know of what they are accused, to be given time to prepare a defense,” Laio said tartly, “in the Islands, at least.”

“It may be that she takes her chance to flee.” Gar was looking thoughtful. “That might be preferable.”

Not from where I was looking, it wasn’t. I cursed under my breath in exasperation as I followed Laio up the stairs. There was just too much I didn’t know about this unholy place, their bizarre customs and peculiar notions. I was going to have to rely on Laio’s guidance and I didn’t like that idea one little bit.

“What is the form of the trial?” I demanded. “Do you have an advocate to speak for you? Will Kaeska have someone to argue her innocence? What exactly do you want me to say?”

“Aldabreshin justice is swift and sure,” answered Laio crisply. “Shek Kul will call you to stand before him and tell your tale. Kaeska will respond and you can argue the details out where necessary. Shek Kul will listen for as long as he wishes and then give his judgment. We do not hide behind intercessors and contention, like the mainlanders. The truth is not some dead beast to be picked over by carrion birds and weasel words.”

I’d have to remember that line to use against Mistal one day. So this court was going to have all the validity of a barrack room assize, as far as I could see; my best hope had to be that the legendary blood-thirstiness of the Aldabreshi would carry the day against Kaeska, regardless.

“What about the fish and the birds? When are you going to tell Shek Kul about that?”

“I’m not and neither are you.” Laio opened the bedroom door with a vindictive shove. “Kaeska will only deny it and once we acknowledge the fact of the deaths there will always be the suspicion that it was a valid omen.”

And if no one mentions the lizard sitting in the middle of the dining table, presumably it doesn’t exist either.

“I don’t want you mentioning this attack you say they made on you either, not since there were no witnesses,” Laio continued. “They’ll only use that to muddy the waters by arguing some personal conflict between you and this foreigner, that your accusations are simply malicious.”

Laio forbade any further discussion with a wave of her hand and readied herself for bed with her usual routine, soon asleep and snoring with an insouciance that I could only envy. I lay on my pallet, naked sword ready to hand, unable to sleep as my ears seized on every slightest noise as the long night deepened, darkened and paled into day.

The Palace of Shek Kul, the Aldabreshin Archipelago, 7th of For-Summer

I was standing on the balcony, watching as the sunlight spilled the golden promise of a new dawn across the dark green flanks of the mountain when I heard Laio stir behind me. Stifling a yawn, I turned to see her emerge from her silken cocoon of quilts, eyes unfocused, her soft face betraying her girlhood. As her gaze lit on me, her expression hardened.

“You look dreadful!” She tossed her coverlets aside. “Have you been awake all night?”

“I know what Kaeska’s been up to. I’ve dealt with these cursed Elietimm before,” I snapped, exhaustion hitting me like a slap in the face now I had to start thinking and talking again. “I wasn’t about to have her come in and slit our throats in the middle of the night!”

“Oh don’t be so ridiculous,” Laio said with no little contempt as she dragged on an old crimson tunic and ran a hand through her hair. If I hadn’t been so spent, I would probably have managed some cutting retort; as it was all I could do was scowl.

“I need you awake and alert to give your evidence against Kaeska this evening,” she continued, her voice taut with irritation. “Get in.” She pulled aside a quilt on the bed.

“What?” I blinked, too tired to bother with niceties.

“Get some sleep, you idiot.” There was precious little patience remaining in her tone and her foot was tapping ominously.

I moved to the bed, consoling myself with the realization that Sezarre and Grival would be awake by now and the residence guard would have been changed at dawn. They would be more than a match for Kaeska and her sorcerer in a straight fight. Now the plot had been exposed, for the Elietimm to use magic would be to condemn the pair of them out of hand. My sluggish thoughts had just reached this conclusion when the silken pillow touched my cheek with a seductive caress. I was lost and asleep even before Laio’s warmth and lingering scent in the bed could stir my tired senses.

I was borne upwards from the depths of sleep by a swelling tide of noise in the compound below Laio’s apartments. Opening my eyes, I was just trying to identify the individual elements in the mix when the door opened. I sat bolt upright, heart racing, only to see Laio standing looking at me, her expression a blend of concern and irritation.

“Are you going to be able to tell a coherent tale without falling asleep in the middle of it?” Her foot was tapping again and I realized belatedly how much of her own prestige Laio was investing in my word.

“Yes,” I said simply. “You were right, I did need to sleep.” If I had expected my admission would soften her mood, I was wrong.

“Of course I was,” snapped Laio. “Get up, get washed and fetch something to eat.”

I hurried to comply; having Laio standing in the middle of the floor, arms folded and eyes hooded with annoyance didn’t encourage any lingering in bed. Stifling a fleeting wish that I could have a decent shave for once, I headed down to the kitchens, pausing at the half-landing to open a shutter and check the time by the sun. It proved to be late afternoon, but I barely spared the sun a glance when I saw the activity in the gardens. I’d thought the place was crowded when the news of the baby’s birth has spread but that was nothing compared to the scene below me. It looked as if half the domain had somehow made its way here; I couldn’t believe all these people lived on this one island. A tremor of nervousness threatened to unsettle me and I slapped a passing insect with unnecessary venom.

“Get a grip on the reins, Rysh,” I muttered to myself. “The only one you need to convince is Shek Kul. Imagine he’s the Sieur in a difficult mood.”

The problem with that was not only did I know the Sieur and his disposition while Shek Kul was largely still an untold tale to me, but I could also rely on the protection of oaths that the Sieur had made when offering me his commission. I realized that I had no idea just what Shek Kul might do to me if he decided for some arcane reason that my words were a malicious fabrication. I made haste to fetch Laio’s meal and waited impatiently for her to eat her fill.

“What will happen if Kaeska is not judged guilty?” I asked abruptly, not bothering to ask permission as I began to eat, trying to see if some food would settle the qualms gathering in my gut.

Laio shook herself as she rose and began pacing along the balcony. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” she replied in a haughty tone that nevertheless rang a little hollow to my ears. “Tell the tale as you gave it to me and she will not be able to excuse herself.”

There was a distinct edge of nervousness in her voice, which struck answering echoes from the doubts starting to gather around my mind. I stared at the flatbread in my hand, appetite failing me.

“Will you hurry up!” Laio suddenly snapped. “I need to dress and make ready.”

As I shoved the tray aside, I forced the tumult of doubt and apprehension into the back of my mind and slammed a door on it. If I betrayed any nervousness, I could see Laio’s poise would desert her and then we would both be in trouble. I might have the evidence that would condemn Kaeska but Laio was the one who knew how this so-called system of justice worked, which arguments would be most likely to sway Shek Kul, how Kaeska’s mind would be working as she tried to evade her fate. I needed Laio calm and confident, all her wits sharp, honed to perfection as she cut through the intricacies of life in a Warlord’s household. Well, that at least was something I had some control over.

Accordingly, I dressed her in a flamboyant golden gown, the silk shot through with a vivid bankfisher blue, answering fire caught from an Emperor’s ransom in sapphires and diamonds around her neck, her wrists and her ankles. I drew her hair up with jewelled clips and pins, piling it high to give her an illusion of greater tallness, the style encouraging her to carry her head high, shoulders back. She sat still as a statue, expressionless, as I painted her face in the intricate mask of an Aldabreshin noblewoman, outlining her eyes and brows with black, a sweep of azure and gold carried out from her lashes to her hairline, cheekbones highlighted to dramatic effect and lips full with a rich red tint that promised untold delights. As her mouth yielded to the soft kiss of the brush, my hand halted and our eyes met.

“This is more than rivalry between wives or Shek Kul ridding himself of an inconvenience,” said Laio somberly. “The practice of magic is a foul offense and it must be punished. I would be doing this if it had been Mahli you had overheard, you must understand this.”

I understood that Laio meant every word, whatever I might think of the so-called crime. “You are doing your duty to Shek Kul and to the domain,” I replied with equal gravity. “I will do everything in my power to support you.”

Laio drew in a long breath and, after a moment, released it slowly. Moving to look out across the straits to the distant hills, oblivious to the milling crowds below, she stood in silence, preparing herself. I looked at her, wondered if I should try talking to her further, but decided against it and addressed myself to my own appearance. Taking a brush to burnish my hauberk, I scoured it to a silver brilliance before scrubbing the resulting grime from my hands. Once I was clean I dressed in the green and black silk arming jacket that proclaimed the domain when I was on show to visiting nobles. Settling the armor on my shoulders and hips, I was about to buckle on my belt when Laio stirred.

“There’s a coffer by the door,” she said, almost absently, her eyes still fixed on the far distant heights.

I looked around and found a small casket of reddish-brown wood bound with bronze. Opening it I found a broad belt rich with silver-mounted stones, jet and malachite, arrogant in their size and cut. Clasping similarly ornamented bracers around my forearms, I lifted out an Aldabreshin war helm, something I had not worn to this point. Shaped close to the skull, it had a veil of fine chainmail to protect the neck and shoulders and a sliding nasal bar. Chased silver bands around and across it were inlaid with curling enamel lines of Aldabreshin script and I put it on with an odd sense of foreboding, wondering just what I had written above my eyes.

“Now you are an Islander.” Laio nodded her approval.

I managed a faint smile. I certainly looked the part but I would have to convince everyone present that I was truly Laio’s man at this masquerade of a trial, loyal to her, Shek Kul and the domain in that order. How could I do that when I did not believe it myself? My oath had been given long before I had been brought here and I was the only one who could take it back and give it elsewhere. My loyalties to Laio or Shek Kul weren’t worth a Lescari cut-piece; I spent every spare moment racking my brains for a way to escape them. Was I forsworn by this pretense? Where was the virtue in standing on my honor if that would only get me killed?

What of my immediate situation? My quarrel was with the Elietimm, with him and his kind who had somehow encompassed my slavery here; I wasn’t doing this for Laio or the domain, I wanted some measure of vengeance for my own predicament, even if that hapless slut Kaeska was going to suffer Dastennin only knew what torments if I succeeded. I caught my breath on a sudden memory of the visions Viltred had shown me; these Elietimm were a threat to all that held my oath, weren’t they? That alone should validate my actions here, shouldn’t it?

Would I be any closer to escaping and returning to the duties I had chosen of my own free will? If I did, would Kaeska’s death be a price I was prepared to accept, a consequence I could defend to Saedrin when the time came? Too late for these questions; I was committed now. It was time to act and deal with the consequences as the runes fell, the moment any good soldier learns to recognize if he’s to live beyond his first season in the militia.

I moved to stand at Laio’s shoulder and stared out toward the hidden seas, wondering what Livak was doing at this moment, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun sank inexorably to the horizon. A rising note swelled above us from a deep-throated horn I had not heard give tongue before. In the gathering dusk I saw bright flowers of flame blossom along a line of beacons, answering points of light identifying islands far distant. Whatever happened here tonight clearly involved the entire domain.

“Come.” Laio turned and led the way, back straight, head held high, her poise impeccable. I drew myself up as straight as if I had been granted a private audience with the Emperor and kept pace at her heel. As we reached the stairs, Gar and Sezarre emerged, equally resplendent, faces equally grave. Side by side and everyone in step, we descended to the compound where the throng parted before us in silent waves of obeisance before sweeping around to follow like a gathering sea at our backs. Crossing the compound, we entered a great hall that I had not been in before and it took all my training to remain impassive as I took in my surroundings.

This was Shek Kul’s audience chamber, the heart of the domain, the seat of his authority. It was a lofty, pillared hall with walls of shining black marble inlaid with false arches of a green, veined stone, bracketed with torches scattering golden light from their faceted and mirrored niches. Shutters high above our heads had been opened and a breeze stirred the array of pennants hanging from the central arch of the roof. The snap and flutter of the silk could clearly be heard above the faint sounds of the expectant crowd. Censers filled the air with their perfume and the soft whisper of fly-whisks sounded on all sides.

Our steps echoed on the floor, the sound vanishing into the masses already gathered along the walls, more pressing in at the wide double doorway. We proceeded up the central aisle to stand in the center of a vast abstract design in green marble set into the floor at the foot of a flight of three broad steps. Shek Kul looked down from the dais, seated squarely on a black wood throne inlaid with silver and precious stones. In a dramatic contrast to ourselves, the Warlord was dressed in plain white silk, hair and beard unornamented, his only gem a great emerald set in a heavy gold chain around his neck. He waved Laio and Gar to seats at his off hand with an economical gesture, his grave expression unchanging.

I took my stand at Laio’s shoulder, wanting to share a glance with Sezarre but unable to do so without moving my head. Before I had time to grow concerned about the possible implications of Shek Kul’s dress, a low murmur swept toward us through the expectant crowd and the guards at the doorway stood aside to let Kaeska Shek enter. I heard a note of sympathy, which gave me something new to worry about.

Kaeska was a forlorn figure, tiny in the vastness of the hall, bare feet silent on the cold marble as she walked up the central aisle toward judgment. Her hair was bound in a simple braid down her back, face naked and vulnerable, and she wore only a plain dress of unbleached cotton. I managed to keep my own contempt out of my face, but couldn’t help glancing at Shek Kul to see how he was reacting to this display of penitence. To my relief I was sure I saw a gleam of cynicism to answer my own in his dark eyes. Looking for the Elietimm priest, I saw he was following Kaeska, his distance nicely judged not to distract the onlookers from her portrayal of humble duty.

My thoughts were interrupted by the heavy slam of the far doors, the bar falling across with a thud that made me feel as trapped as Kaeska, the feverish scent of anticipation replacing the fragrant aroma of the night-time gardens. I drew a deep breath as Shek Kul rose to his feet, looking down at Kaeska with hard eyes.

“You are accused of suborning sorcery in my domain, woman. How do you answer?”

“I deny the act.” Kaeska’s reply was little more than a whisper, catching on a half-stifled sob that elicited a ripple of sympathy from the closest spectators. Shek Kul looked unmoved.

“I will hear the accusation.” He looked at me and I thought I saw some hint of encouragement in a softening of his expression.

“Stand next to Kaeska,” Laio murmured through barely parted lips and I marched briskly down the steps, pleased to see faint distress in Kaeska’s eyes as I towered over her, armored in all the regalia of the domain. Wreathed around with the coils of the inlaid design, I have to confess that I felt uncomfortably exposed to the probing gazes all around.

“Speak only the truth or suffer the consequences.” Shek Kul looked even more forbidding from here.

I took a soldier’s stance and began my tale, drawing on all my knowledge of the Aldabreshin tongue, forcing myself to speak slowly and clearly, repressing any hint of emotion, trusting that the facts alone would condemn the woman. Murmurs among the crowd rose, died back and swelled again as I continued my recital, but I kept my eyes fixed on Shek Kul, speaking to him as if we were alone in the windswept center of the Dalasorian plains. When I fell silent, the tension in the air would have blunted steel.

“What say you?” Shek Kul demanded of Kaeska.

“I confess—” She collapsed to her knees, face hidden in her hands, her sobs ripping through the shocked silence of the great hall.

“You—” Shek Kul was startled to his feet for an instant before he regained his poise. I looked at Laio and saw she had gone so pale beneath her complexion and her face paints that I thought she would faint.

“Not to the sorcery!” Kaeska’s head snapped up and, for all her tears, her eyes were clear and calculating. “Never to the magic but, oh, my lord, I—” she choked on a shuddering breath. “I confess to fatal weakness, mortal foolishness, to succumbing to the lure of the mainlander smoke. I have sought for so long for a cure for the pain that twists in my heart, that I have been unable to bear children, that my blood falls barren, not to nourish the domain—”

Her eyes closed in anguish, she clasped her hands to her breast, mouth working but no words emerging. She could certainly weave a pretty sentence for a woman in such dire distress, I thought sourly.

“In my travels and trade, as I sought to serve the domain in the only way I could, I heard mention of these mainlander smokes, of the way they can lighten the heaviest burdens. I was tempted but I resisted, you must believe me, I resisted until I heard that Mahli was to bring the blessing on the domain where I had failed. The anguish, the envy, the mean and petty jealousy that clawed at me, oh my lord, I hated myself for the foulness of my thoughts when I should have been rejoicing—I could live with the pain of my empty womb but I could not face the repellent creature I had become. I took to the smoke to escape myself, the rending of my conscience, the corruption that festered within me!” Her voice, rising through this increasingly frantic speech, fell and shattered into hysterical crying, Kaeska prostrate on the shining floor, hands clinging to the unyielding stone.

I kept my stance, expressionless but I could assess all too well from the faces I could see the impact of the tableau the pair of us were presenting; Kaeska, tiny, undefended, baring the shameful secrets of her heart as I loomed over her, armored, ostentatious in my finery, eyes hooded by the helm, my sword hanging over her naked neck.

Rapid chatter scurried around the assembled islanders, the volume increasing until it was abruptly silenced as Shek Kul rose and descended the steps with a measured tread.

“Calm yourself.” His soft words reached to the furthest corners of the hall as he knelt beside the weeping woman and she fell silent. Taking one of Kaeska’s hands, he raised her to her knees and used a soft silk square to gently wipe the tears from her face.

“So why does this slave accuse you of sorcery?” I breathed a shallow sigh of relief at the firmness of Shek Kill’s question.

Kaeska spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “I do not know. I cannot say—my lord, forgive my foolishness, my failing! I have spent long days of anguish repenting my weakness, I will be a good wife to you—raise Laio and Gar above me and I will take my place as the least of your women. My transgressions have been grievous but I have seen the error of my ways—let me make a new start just as the birth of our son marks a fresh opening for the domain. Crown this joyous time with the shining jewel of mercy.”

“If this slave did not see sorcery, what did he see?” Shek Kul stood and looked down at Kaeska, arms folded, face stern, his manner subtly directing the mood in the hall.

“May I speak?”

The Ice Islander’s halting words shocked a hiss from the assembly but I saw Shek Kul’s eyes were unsurprised. “I will hear you.”

The Elietimm moved from the shadow of a pillar where he had been waiting and stepped into the light at the edge of the great marble insignia. “I must apologize most humbly for my part in this affair.” He paused, a nicely calculated shake of his head as he looked at the kneeling Kaeska. “It is I who supplied your wife with the smoke. I had obtained the leaves to take home; our holy men use it to open their minds to a higher realm of being. I did not understand the powerful reasons the Aldabreshi have for keeping such things from your islands and sought only to relieve the lady’s dire distress by lifting her perceptions beyond her immediate sorrows. I did not know that I transgressed against your customs and for that I am heartily sorry.”

So his was the pattern of words I had been hearing in Kaeska’s impassioned laments.

“The slave was listening at the door, was he not?” The snake wasn’t even looking at me. “The shutters were open to catch the breeze and the door was uncurtained, as I recall. I suggest the air carried the smoke to the slave and worked on his mind to weave a hallucination. It is not an uncommon effect of the drug on an unprepared mind; I blame myself for not ensuring the smoke did not drift.”

Shek Kul looked at me. “How say you?”

I bit down my instinctive rebuttal and took a slow count of three before replying. “No, it was no hallucination.” The approval in Shek Kul’s eyes at my considered response heartened me further.

“Forgive me,” the Ice Islander’s words were courteous, but I hoped Shek Kul could see the hostility in the man’s eyes as he turned his gaze toward me, “but how can you be so sure? The very nature of an hallucination is to mimic reality in every particular.”

“I had experience of taking smoke in my youth.” I kept my voice level and unemotional. “This was completely unlike that feeling.”

“Of course,” the Elietimm nodded, “you are a mainlander, are you not?”

I could tell this reminder was not lost on the watching islanders and saw that Shek Kul was looking thoughtful.

“I am body slave to the Warlord’s lady, Laio Shek,” I stated firmly. That much was simple fact, and no forswearing.

“The question of the effect of the drug aside,” the Ice Islander moved on smoothly, “your accusation of sorcery, of magic, stems from what exactly? From the rites you say you saw and heard? From the words I spoke in what you yourself said was a tongue unknown to you?”

I nodded, not about to risk a snare in his tangled argument. He inclined his head with a satisfied air and turned to Shek Kul.

“As I explained, the holy men of my people use the smoke to open their minds to the higher states of awareness. I have some grounding in what is a complex procedure, not without risk, and we use chants to focus ourselves. This is what the slave heard and did not understand; it is not magic in any sense.”

“What I saw being practiced was sorcery.” I raised my voice above his tone of level reasonableness and was gratified by the whisper that ran around the hall.

“Again, I ask, how can this man be sure?” The Elietimm kept his eyes on Shek Kul.

“I have seen magic worked before—”

‘The mainlander practices of charlatans and those whose very blood is tainted with enchantment—are you saying you are familiar with such men?“ The priest’s eagerness to discredit me betrayed him.

“I have seen this magic worked by men of your race, on the islands you inhabit in the far ocean,” I stated baldly.

The bastard knew I had scored a hit with that stroke and looked for a recovery. “You say you have visited my homeland? How did you come to be there? What were you doing in the deep ocean?”

“I was on a fishing vessel that was carried far off its course by wind and current.” What did the fool think I was going to say? That I had been on a spying trip working with a wizard of Hadrumal who reported directly to the Archmage?

“So you don’t know exactly where you were?”

I had to concede that, given the circumstances.

“Did you see much of the island you arrived at? How long were you there?”

“Enough to know your islands have none of the resources you are offering to trade—no wood, no metals, no leathers,” I said crisply. “Long enough to be greeted with hostility and attacked with magic.”

“You are no fisherman, surely? What were you doing on a fisher vessel?”

This change of tack momentarily threw me off balance. Aware that I had hesitated, if only for a breath, I opted for the truth. “As a sworn man to the House of D’Olbriot, I was seeking revenge for cowardly and magical assaults on members of my master’s family.”

That came out more forcefully than I had intended. I mentally kicked myself as I felt a shift of disapproval in the air of the hall.

“It would seem your mistress has still to beat those old loyalties out of you, Tormalin man.” The Elietimm fixed me with a challenging eye for a moment but then shrugged helplessly. “I believe I know the islands that you speak of, but I can assure you I am not of their race.”

“You are of the appearance of the enchanters, you speak their tongue.” I insisted, aware this was now my word against his. “I have also seen your kind of magic worked on the mainland, used in foul assaults on the weak and helpless, to maim and to rob.” I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice as 1 remembered Messire’s nephew, blinded and bleeding after these scum had beaten him senseless. If this bastard was going to remind everyone I was a mainlander, I’d do my best to reverse that rune for him.

Shek Kul raised a hand and returned to the dais, all eyes on him, my heart quickening.

“I do not find this matter either truly proved or satisfactorily refuted,” he declared, his deep voice ringing through the hush of the hall. “A grave crime is alleged and this must be resolved. The truth will be tested in single combat, at noon tomorrow, on the person of this body slave who brings the accusation.”

I looked blankly at Laio, only to see a look of total shock on her face. She jumped to her feet, silencing the buzz of speculation running rife on every side.

“Where is the body slave to Kaeska Shek, that her veracity may be defended?”

“Yes, where is Irith?”

Shek Kul looked at Kaeska, who was unable to restrain a fleeting smug expression before collapsing once more with piercing wails of distress. “He is dead, my faithful servant, he is lost because of my stupidity. As well as the smoke, I acquired some berries to numb my mind, but whereas I knew they should only be eaten one at a time and seldom, Irith found them and ate them all!”

“The commander of the guard will examine the body.” Shek Kul’s uncompromising pronouncement shocked Kaeska to silence and she stared up with no little dismay. I couldn’t see what she had to worry about; tahn poisoning is tahn poisoning and I couldn’t see there being any trace to prove whose hand had been behind it.

The Elietimm stepped forward to divert attention from Kaeska, all humble solicitude. “Since it is my ill-considered actions that have exposed the lady to these accusations, may I make some reparation by defending her honor? I am no swordsman but I have some small skill with a mace, if that would be allowed.”

Shek Kul looked at him, contempt plain on his face now he had given his judgment. “That would seem entirely fitting.”

I bit down hard on my protests as I caught a frantic look of appeal from Laio. Fuming, I waited as first Shek Kul then the two wives descended from the dais, Kaeska taking her place beside Gar, a spring in her step proof against the venomous glance she received from Laio. Sezarre moved to put himself between me and the Elietimm, a good thing because I was so furious I was sorely tempted to put a length of sharp steel through the bastard’s guts there and then. Kaeska and the enchanter must have been working to this end all along. We returned to the residence, my anger driving me on so fast that Laio was only able to keep her position in front of me by half running at times.

I turned on her as soon as we were inside her apartment, not caring who heard what through the flimsy walls and shutters. “What’s this about a single combat? You never said anything about that! You were so cursed sure Shek Kul would leap at the chance to get rid of that bitch, he’d hardly pause for breath! What’s going on?” I ripped off my helm and bracers, dropping them anyhow, heedless as a gem bounced loose from its mounting.

“It’s hardly ever done, I never thought Shek Kul would opt for testing the truth like that.” Laio was visibly upset, but I had more important things to worry me as I stripped off my chainmail.

“Where’s the cursed justice in a single combat, Dast help me? I could have taken Irith, no question, whether Kaeska was innocent or guilty—that’s probably why they finished the poor bastard off! Now I have to fight that cursed enchanter, who’s not only handy-looking with a mace but I’ll lay sound coin will be using magic on me as well!”

Laio was struggling to follow my rapid and impassioned Tormalin. “He wouldn’t dare,” she objected.

“Who’s going to know? Who’s to say his little chant isn’t some kind of battle cry? Is Shek Kul going to stop the fight when I back off and say the bastard is messing with my mind? How exactly does this test of truth work?” I was sweating profusely and shrugged myself out of my padded jerkin with an oath.

“It’s a fight, two men, each with a weapon and armor, to the death.” Laio looked on the edge of tears. “Once the word is given, it cannot be stopped, not until one is dead. Anyone backing out is deemed guilty and executed.”

“Either party? If I back out, all of a sudden, I’m looking at a sunset trip with Poldrion?”

Laio’s hands hovered in confusion as my meaning escaped her. “The test is a serious matter, Shek Kul would not call for one unless he thought it was necessary. You are telling the truth, so you are bound to win!”

I looked at her and cursed myself as a gurry-eating fool for relying on her like that, seeing her extreme youth with new eyes. I’d been so far adrift out here, I’d taken the first thing I’d been offered for a bearing, only to find I’d been setting a course by a cloud bank.

“Shek Kul wants rid of Kaeska, but he doesn’t want her blood on his hands, does he? This isn’t about truth or justice, it’s about Shek Kul avoiding condemning her outright himself!” I was as angry with myself as I was at Laio; I’d been in such a hurry to draw the Elietimm’s teeth that I hadn’t stopped to think all of this through myself. That didn’t stop me taking my fury out on Laio though.

“You were so pleased with yourself weren’t you? Now I have to go up against a cursed sorcerer who’ll be able to pickle my wits and pick me off at leisure. Well, I hope you’re pleased with yourself; this time tomorrow, I’ll be dead and Kaeska will be judged pure as spring water and free to poison whoever she wants. Still, look on the bright side—you and Gar can plan a nice trip to Relshaz to buy yourself a new slave. Try to take better care of the next one. With luck Mahli and the baby might still be alive when you get back!”

“You’re making a lot of fuss—” Laio began tremulously.

“No, pigeon, I’m not!” I caught her chin as she went to turn away and looked her straight in the eye. “I’ll take on any man you want in fair fight—Grival, Sezarre, the captain of the guard. I’ll trust my skills and take the runes as they fall. This is different; this is magic. And not just honest magic—air, earth, fire and water. This is enchantment that gets inside your own mind and turns it against you.” I laid a heavy hand on Laio’s head to emphasis the point and felt her quail beneath it. “I’ve had one of these bastards loose in my skull before. I’ve tried to fight it and I know that I can’t!”

“For this man to use magic would be to condemn himself and Kaeska—” Laio began, a tear trickling unheeded down one cheek.

“I’ll be dead before anyone notices!” I pulled my hands away and looked around the room. A pitcher of weak Aldabreshin wine stood on a side-table and I began to pour before abruptly heaving the jug at the wall. “I can’t even get a decent pissing drink in this shit-hole!”

The crash of the shattering pitcher shocked Laio into fullblown sobbing but it brought me to my senses, my rage as effectively in pieces as the earthenware jug. I shook my head; Laio was so very young, she couldn’t expect to play for the same stakes as Kaeska and win. I should have known that.

“Come on, stop crying.” I put a hand on Laio’s shuddering shoulder. She turned to fling herself against my chest, her tears hot through the thin silk of my undertunic.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “It seemed like such a good idea, such a good way to get rid of Kaeska. I thought Shek would be so pleased, it might make up for me not wanting a child just yet, I don’t want to do it, not just yet, not after yesterday, and I’ve got myself into such a mess with the cotton, but if Gar was to help, I could sort it out, as long as Kaeska wasn’t here to make trouble, and Nai is so lovely, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him or to Mahli and it would be all my fault, if I knew Kaeska was planning something and I didn’t do something to stop her—”

She choked as she ran out of breath and coughed on her tears. I sighed and gave her a hug, a little startled to feel her cling to me like a drowning kitten. “Hush, what’s done is done, after all.” I didn’t feel that sanguine, but if I was going to have any chance against the sorcerer I needed sleep, not to spend half the night soothing Laio’s hysterics. “Let’s just go to bed.”

Laio lifted her tear-stained face, a puzzled expression fleeting across her brow. “All right, if you want to.” Standing on tip-toe, she kissed me full on the lips, pressing herself against me. That met an instant reaction as my body received the message half a breath ahead of my wits. Before I could say anything to correct this misunderstanding, Laio twined her arms around the back of my neck to draw me closer, her mouth open and inviting. Abruptly I kissed her back, hard, a challenge in my lips and tongue, knowing this was almost certainly an inappropriate thing to be doing, but equally only too aware that I would be fighting for my life tomorrow, with a lame leg, against a sorcerer who would have me just where he wanted me. Laio evidently felt the shift in my weathervane and pressed her thigh into me, my scruples weakening as my ardor hardened. Dast take it, I could be dead by sunset tomorrow, and if the condemned man wasn’t going to get a hearty meal I’d take what was on offer. Sliding my hand down, I teased her breast through the fine silk of her dress and felt her nipple rise to my touch.

Things moved more quickly after that, neither of us stopping to think, just concentrating on losing ourselves in sensation. Laio knew some tricks that made me wonder just where Aldabreshi girls got their education once I had my breath back, but there was nothing of the practiced whore about her, just a frank and sensual delight in her body and mine. As a sexual experience, it was quite remarkable. Afterwards, a long while afterwards, as we lay in the rumpled chaos of the bed, the sweat drying slowly on our bodies. I pulled a quilt over us to keep out the chill and so we drifted off to sleep. Although Laio had been a unique delight, I smiled as I realized that despite everything my last thoughts were still of Livak.

The chamber of Planir the Great, the island city of Hadrumal, 7th of For-Summer

“Don’t worry, I know exactly where Ryshad is. We have got everything in hand to rescue him.” Planir spoke confidently at Shiv’s image, tiny and gold-tinted in a polished steel mirror lit by a single candle flame. “How are you getting on?” The Archmage was in shirt sleeves, seated at a polished table in his paneled study, the evening sun sinking behind the towers of Hadrumal just visible through the tall lancets of the window next to him.

“I’m afraid Viltred is being difficult.” Exasperation was clear in Shiv’s muffled, tinny sounding voice. “All he wants is to get to Hadrumal as soon as possible; he doesn’t feel safe anywhere else, not after Ryshad disappeared like that.”

“Tell him not to worry about Ryshad,” Planir repeated himself, clenching a fist beneath the table where the spell would not be carrying his image to Shiv. “We need Viltred to persuade Lord Finvar to let us have the records of that shrine. I’m counting on the man having some respect for his old tutor; nothing else we’ve tried has succeeded thus far.”

“I can’t see Viltred inspiring respect in anyone just at present,” responded Shiv dourly. “He’s old and tired and running scared of everything from Elietimm to Eldritch-men. There must be someone else you can send.”

“Casuel? He’s on his way to Toremal, to help Esquire Camarl look for any material on this lost colony. Other than that, no, Shiv, I can’t send anyone just at present.” The undertone of authority in Planir’s voice forbade further argument.

“If Cas is the only alternative, I suppose Viltred will have to do.” Shiv scowled and leaned back in his chair, running both hands through his hair, a pause as he laced his hands behind his head eloquent of his frustration.

“Please just ask Viltred to do what he can, tell him it’s a special request from me to him, personally. I appreciate his situation and as soon as you have the archive, I’ll arrange a nexus of power for you to link to and translocate here directly.” Planir’s tone was warm and amiable but his fingers were drumming silently on his worn and faded breeches.

“I’ll do my best but Saedrin save me from nurse-maiding anymore senile old wizards,” sighed Shiv. “We’re in Claithe at the moment; we’ll be on the road as soon as we can get Livak’s horse shod. It’s no more than a couple of days to Lord Finvar’s fiefdom from here in good weather.”

“You’ve still got those women with you?” Planir frowned. “Why?”

“They’re not about to leave until they know what’s happened to Ryshad and seen for themselves that you’re doing everything you can to get him back.” Shiv’s image showed a tiny, rueful smile. “Would you believe Livak is actually offering to steal the books for us, if Lord Finvar really digs his heels in? That’s on the understanding the entire Council turns its talents to finding Ryshad though. We might have another advantage as well; Halice reckons she knows the captain of his guard from her mercenary days. We’ll get those records for you one way or another, Archmage.”

Planir shook his head with a grin. “I’m glad to see you’re showing a bit of initiative, Shiv. Mind you, only let Livak loose if there’s no other option. That one’s services come expensive, as I remember!”

Shiv laughed as the spell dissolved the image, and Planir snuffed the candle with an absent-minded word of command. The Archmage ran a hand over his face and rubbed the back of his neck with a muttered oath as a knock sounded on the oak of his door.

“Enter.”

“Are we any closer to getting that Arimelin archive from Finvar yet?” Usara inquired without ceremony. While a pale complexion was to be expected with his sandy hair, the scholarly mage was looking almost gray with fatigue.

“Are you any closer to scrying out that unholy sword?” countered Planir, rising from his chair and crossing the room to a sideboard of elegantly simple design. “Cordial?”

“Thank you, a little of the mint.” Usara dropped into a deeply upholstered chair with an explosive sigh of frustration, lifting his dirty boots heedlessly on to a low table heaped with documents. “No, since you ask, we still can’t get any kind of a fix on the cursed thing.”

“You know, I’m starting to think it might be better if D’Olbriot’s man got himself killed after all,” said Planir grimly. “We might get a lead on the sword if that happened.”

“Only if it’s the man being shielded, not the weapon. Remember what Mellitha had to tell us, and there’s what Shannet said about the time she and Viltred were looking for islands in the deep ocean to try and prove Azazir’s stories.” Usara sipped his drink with a small murmur of pleasure. “Anyway, I can’t see D’Olbriot continuing to support you in Toremal if all he gets to show for it is another man dead with an unredeemed oath fee and an heirloom sword lost and presumably in the hands of an unknown enemy.”

“No, I don’t suppose he will.” Planir stared into the depths of his own glass. “Do you suppose Viltred might have anything useful to add? On the scrying? And get your feet off Kalion’s proposals for remodelling the conduits to the bathhouses, will you, ’Sar?”

“A few creases’ll make it look as if you’ve read them.” The younger wizard was unrepentant. “No, I can’t see Viltred having anything to contribute at all; he was a guttered candle before he went off to the arse end of Caladhria and I don’t suppose a handful of years conversing with peasants will have restored him much. Still, he’ll have done more service than he knows if he can get that cursed archive for us. We must find a key to unlock these unholy dreams, to give us some means of controlling them, opening things up once that initial sympathy with the artifact has been established. Has Otrick located any other shrines to Arimelin that might predate the Chaos, or is this still the only one?”

“Sorry? What did you say?” Planir’s gaze had been fixed on the thick sheaf of parchments under Usara’s feet. “I tell you, ’Sar, there are times when I’m tempted to let Kalion loose, let him take all his petty wrangles and pompous plans to restore the authority of wizardry to the Council. I could just say, ‘All right, I yield. You take over as Archmage, Hearth-Master, until a proper vote can be convened and Misaen help you!’ ” The wizard stretched out a hand and studied the heavy golden ring of his office, the central diamond mysterious in the fading sunlight, catching and mingling the colors of the four gems set around it, sapphire, amber, ruby and emerald. “Air, earth, fire and water; we can do what we like with them, can’t we ’Sar? That’s what all the mundane populace think, anyway. I’m the Archmage, you know, most powerful man on an island of wizards with untold powers over the very elements of the world around us. It all counts for nothing, does it, not now we have to find a way to face powers we can’t even start to explain.”

“I’m sure the information will be out there, somewhere. Knowledge is rarely lost, just misplaced or misinterpreted.” Usara went to refill his glass, offering the decanter to Planir, who shook his head. Usara took his seat again before continuing. “Saedrin only send we find it before the Elietimm put their first pieces on the board and start the game in earnest. Oh, by the way, about Shannet—she and Troanna are at each other’s throats over who exactly offered that lad Corian a pupillage first. I’m not going to get any sense out of either of them until they settle it.”

Planir groaned. “He’s that opinionated youth from Dusgate? For such venerable and respected mages, those two can be sillier than first-season apprentices at times. Where will I find Shannet tomorrow, do you know?”

“She’ll be working with Otrick over at New Hall in the morning,” replied Usara after a moment’s thought. “They’re giving a lecture on air and water conflicts.”

“If I get a chance, I’ll just happen to drop in on Troanna too; after all, as she is senior Flood-Mistress I should consult her about Kalion’s desires to mess about with the water supply, shouldn’t I?” A spark of humor reanimated Planir’s countenance.

Usara laughed. “Absolutely, o revered Archmage.”

Planir began pacing in front of the empty fireplace, renewed vitality driving the tiredness from his face and lifting a generation’s burden of years from his shoulders. “And when I’ve sorted that precious pair out, what can I do to stall D’Olbriot, keep him happy until I’ve found out exactly what’s happened to his man?”

“Do you really think you can find Ryshad?” There was surprise rather than doubt in Usara’s question.

“Oh yes, ’Sar. Why? Don’t you have unquestioning faith in your Archmage after all?” Planir smiled, his teeth gleaming white and even in the gathering dusk. He snapped his fingers and candles all around the room leaped to brilliant life. “You should know more than most; the power of this office is based on a great deal more than a gaudy ring and its promises of sorcery. I should have news of Ryshad inside a couple of handful days.”

“Then all you’ll have to worry about is Kalion.” The lines furrowing Usara’s brow were smoothed away as his expression lightened.

“You know, I think the same scent may well divert them both, if we lay it carefully.” Planir paused to look out of the window. “Kalion wants to know why we’re working round the chimes with nothing to show for it; I think I’ll take him into my confidence about the complex Elietimm plots that are frustrating our every move, tying up all our effort just in countering them. I’ll send the Sieur D’Olbriot a despatch too, with just enough dark hints and evasions to give him something more urgent to worry about than his missing hound.”

“Just what plots would these be, exactly?” inquired Usara, a smile spreading across his face nevertheless.

Planir spread his hands in a vague gesture. “I think that’ll be too complicated to explain, don’t you? How about we hint that these Elietimm were somehow responsible for Ryshad’s arrest in Relshaz?”

“Do you think they did?” Usara blinked in some surprise.

“No, not really, I think they just took advantage of the situation. From what Mellitha says I imagine whatever sympathy he’s developed with D’Alsennin betrayed him somehow; she identified the arm ring he was trying to take as an old piece with Den Rannion’s crest. No, the truth of it’s not important, ’Sar. You just tell Kalion what I told you about Ryshad when he comes asking, as long as you swear him to secrecy of course—tell him to keep it closer than the lid on an urn! We suspect these Ice Islanders had some hand in his disappearance into the Archipelago, if nothing else, and it’s certainly this pestilential aetheric magic that’s hiding him after all. Kalion will tell Ely and Galen, in strictest confidence obviously, and once they start spreading their version the rumor mill will find its own grist. That should give us some time to concentrate on getting Ryshad back and by then, Arimelin willing, we should have that archive and some clue as to how to start turning these dreams to our advantage.” The Archmage poured himself a second larger measure of white brandy and raised his glass to the younger mage in high good humor.

“Arimelin willing,” echoed Usara, draining his own drink. “I’m still worried about what might be happening to Ryshad, though,” he added soberly.

Planir nodded. “The Archipelago’s a dangerous place,” he agreed, his eyes dark. “Dastennin grant he’s not being too badly treated, not starved nor beaten nor worked in chains. That’s probably the best we can hope for.”