I
Kallinesha
Ista argued until the sun came up—probably just to avoid getting back in the saddle—but in the end admitted that a sleep enchantment was the most straightforward way to capture the Chaos Mage. They were both pretty good at sleep suggestions, having done enough of them for sick and troubled callers. It would have to be strong, though, so strong that it knocked him out before he realized what was happening.
They'd also have to layer another enchantment on the object to disguise it, so he wouldn't know it was enchanted at all. Such objects usually appeared tainted, to anyone with much skill in the discipline. If a common magic-wielder so much as tried a beauty enchantment on a hair comb, Mistress could sense it, paltry though the attempt had been. Well-executed enchantments by powerful mages often nauseated her. "Can't you feel that?" she would ask, her hand on her stomach. "Like stormy waters, like a horse gone mad beneath you." Ista would always nod and add her own bad descriptions, while Kallinesha struggled to feel even a puff of magic.
Ista wasn't as practiced as Mistress, but she could sometimes even name the type of enchantment an amulet contained. She and Mistress made it into a game, a game Kallinesha didn't know the rules to. Mistress would hold up a talisman she'd made, or one she was studying, and Ista would touch it, close her eyes, and then declare that it was to bring courage, or for warding off men. If she was right, Mistress would beam. If she was wrong, Mistress would still smile. "Close, pet. Very good." Kallinesha sometimes wondered if Ista was just guessing, but she was right too much of the time. And she always knew if shopkeepers had enchanted their wares. A handy skill. Except when she used it to mock Kallinesha for a bad purchase.
One spring Mistress had detected a book smothered with an inexpert and thus potentially inconvenient love enchantment. She'd hunted it down. Three houses away. Wrapped in cloth inside a heavy chest. Under the bed.
Kallinesha could only feel her own enchantments, and only if she was close enough. Only if she was concentrating.
That was just one of the disciplines, however. Kallinesha could cast more enchantments than Ista, knew the names and the limitations and the necessary enforcements for dozens that Ista had probably never heard of. She knew which materials went best with different enchantments, and which enforcements left detectable residues. And if Mistress let her examine those amulets, gave her a little time, maybe Kallinesha could guess their purposes too.
The Chaos Mage was at least as powerful as Mistress. He would probably detect an undisguised enchantment immediately, and the more harmful, the more quickly it would come to his attention. Sleep was a pretty harmless suggestion, and the most straightforward thing they could think of. But that didn't mean it was simple.
They rode almost to the edge of the baron's lands before working their craft, for the more exhausted they were themselves, the more powerful their sleep enchantment would be.
At least they knew the man liked gold. Kallinesha chose a simple gold ring to carry the enchantment, and once they'd both imbued it with the strongest sleep suggestions they could, Ista cast an enchantment of beauty on the ring, not so difficult a task with real gold. It dazzled their eyes with its glittering elegant simplicity. By now even Kallinesha could feel the faint eddies of magic rippling around the ring. She scraped some glass shavings onto it, rubbed it in the dirt, and tried to weave a look-away enchantment around it to disguise their tampering.
"You have to tie it to our enchantments, not to the ring itself," Ista said.
Kallinesha squinted at her hand, where she'd been holding the ring. Her riding glove had a hole in it. Just a little one. She'd have to fix that. But where was the ring? Had she dropped it? Kallinesha blinked once, twice. There it was, lying against the brown leather, where the seam was starting to fray. And as easy as that, she'd lost sight of it again in the face of the inexplicably fascinating frayed leather. Kallinesha almost laughed. That was probably the best look-away enchantment she'd ever done. Even Mistress would be pleased. Except that it wasn't exactly what she'd meant to do.
"Give it here," Ista said. "You don't want to hide the ring. You want to hide the spells."
As if it were that easy.
Ista fumbled as she tried to grab the gold band, then cupped it tight between both hands, like a firefly she feared would escape. She closed her eyes.
Kallinesha had always hoped for the moment when Ista would fail. Or at least find casting difficult. But when Ista opened her hands, the ring was in plain sight, and even when Kallinesha touched it with her gloved fingers she could no longer detect the tiniest hint of magic. Just the urge to find a bed and lie down.
"If you'd just felt for the ring's essence in the first place, and skimmed around it," Ista said with a shrug.
Kallinesha gritted her teeth. The ring's essence? She could hardly find her own essence sometimes. But Ista made it sound so simple.
"Is it good enough to fool the Chaos Mage?" Kallinesha demanded.
"I…I think so."
Ista's confidence had evaporated in the face of the real test. Coward.
Kallinesha took the ring and wrapped it in layer upon layer of cloth, careful not to touch it directly. "Well, if he recognizes it for what it is, or if the sleep suggestions aren't working fast enough, we'll have to enchant him directly." That was chancier, and took more energy. It was also a lot more obvious. But as a last resort, they'd try it. "Then, once he's asleep, we'll kill him."
"But what if…what if you kill him and he's not really the Chaos Mage?" Ista asked.
"Mistress far-knew. Don't you trust her?" That would silence Ista if anything would. Mistress had never been wrong in her far-knowing, not for the seven years Kallinesha had been with her.
"Of course I trust her. But she's far-known before, looking for the Chaos Mage. She never found anything until now. I just think we should be careful. Maybe we could tie him up, keep casting sleep enchantments on him until we deliver him to the High Mage. If we hired a carriage, that wouldn't take too long, not more than a good night's sleep for him."
"Fine," Kallinesha agreed, with a relief she didn't want to show Ista. "But if I decide he's too dangerous, I'll finish him."
"Fine," Ista said. Then they started to hash out the details of the plan.
II
Ista
Kalli seemed sure the plan would work, and took great pleasure in casting Ista as her servant in the act that would follow. But there were so many things to go wrong. Kalli's father was a great strategist, she was always reminding everyone, with the implication that Kalli would be too. Maybe Ista should just trust her.
The baron's castle was all narrow towers and sharp angles, rising up from a rock outcrop surrounded by the fertile plains he owned. Ista could see a dozen farmers working the fields so their master could build a monstrosity like that castle. And what if the baron supported the Chaos Mage? She and Kalli were no match for all his guards, all his servants. Kalli's plan depended on no one questioning her, Protectoressa Kallinesha, daughter of the High Commander. But what if they did?
At the gates, Kallinesha drew herself up in the saddle and put on her protector-est voice. "Please tell Baron Selkimear that Protectoressa Kallinesha Rhaelenor of Gaidella and Illandri is here to greet him, with warmest wishes from her mother, Protectoressa Hanimar Nytorik Rhaelenor, Protectoressa of Gaidella, Baroness of Illandri, Governor of Eslamyst."
Ista almost laughed. Only a protector could go through that whole string of titles with a straight face.
The guard bowed and left. The wait seemed to take hours. Finally he returned with an ingratiating bow for Kalli, and not even a glance at Ista. He sent their horses off with a groom and bowed again. "The baron invites you to a light repast."
Kallinesha had timed it this way, hoping the baron's courtesy would provide a way for them to meet any other guests, namely the Chaos Mage. "I'd be delighted to accept," said Kalli.
The entry hall was as sumptuous as the palace in the capital. Bright tapestries with imaginary animals covered the walls between stained glass windows featuring more fantastic beasts: six-legged horses and wolves with wings, sharp-toothed rabbits as big as pigs, and something that looked rather like a newborn kitten, but with a row of spikes along its spine and smoke leaking out its nose. Ista shuddered and looked away, focusing instead on the gold tracings on the ceiling, the crystal beads which reflected every candle to three times its brilliance. Several doors led off from the entry hall, each flanked by two guards. Ista's courage had already started to fail her. She wanted to run back out the door behind her. But if this could help break Mistress out of her cursed sleep, then she had to try.
The guard led them to a private dining room, dark even at noon, with carpets so thick and green they looked like grass. At the head of the table sat a thin man with graying hair, who stood up and offered a flowery welcome. There were several others there—a handsome woman in finery, two young boys, a woman so ancient her face hung in folds as her head bobbled over her soup, and a young man maybe twenty years old, with the always-alert, strong-armed air of a soldier. No powerful mage here. She would have felt the stirrings of magic. Someone on the left—the youngest boy maybe—might have a bit of talent, undeveloped. Nothing else. But there was something disturbing about that nothing. The rest of the table stood up, and Ista gave a start. The young man was unusually tall. She hadn't noticed while they were sitting, but now it was obvious. At least a hand span taller than the baron. And then she saw a glint of gold at his neck. A gold chain.
Kalli nudged her with her foot, and Ista concentrated on him. Still not one whisper of magic. Nothing. But it was a dark nothing, dense. Once when she was very young she'd been caught in a thick fog in the city, before she'd ever met Mistress, before she'd ever studied magic. The whiteness of that fog was so complete that she felt she was looking at nothing at all, but just a few steps into the whiteness giants had appeared: a thick tree trunk, the towering wall of a building. Things she never would have overlooked if the skies were clear. All completely hidden by that fog. She'd thought at the time that it was magic. Was this another type of fog now? She reached out with her senses, further into the thick nothing, and with a jolt she stumbled backwards and fell, her head bursting with pain.
"Forgive my servant," she heard Kalli say. "We've had a long ride, and she's not used to such exertions."
Kalli didn't offer to help her up. But then, of course, a great protectoressa wouldn't. Instead, one of the baron's servants took her elbow, muttered something Ista couldn't focus on. The worst of the pain was fading, but she could hardly stand. Her legs felt like jelly, her muscles weak all over.
"My Protectoressa," Ista said, "please may I help with your cloak?" She stumbled forward a few steps, caught herself, swayed.
"Let me," said the baron's servant, but Ista launched herself at Kallinesha.
"It's him," she whispered as she fumbled at the clamp on Kalli's traveling cloak. "The young man, it's him."
Kalli responded with only a tiny nod and moved gracefully to the chair the baron indicated, next to the mage. Ista retreated to the wall with the other servants, supporting herself against it, Kalli's cape draped heavily over her arm. How could someone hardly older than Kalli be the powerful magic-wielder the High Mage was so worried about?
Kalli smiled at the mage as she sat down, and the baron began introductions. The woman was his wife—twenty years younger, Ista figured. Just like all old protectors. The boys were his sons, the woman his mother. Ista held her breath. And the young man? Ryveld Daistar, Protectoret of Smotur. Smotur lay halfway across the kingdom, though she wasn't sure exactly where.
"And what brings you here?" Kalli asked. Her voice, dripping with sugar, sounded fake to Ista, but maybe only because Kalli had never spared much sweetness for her.
Ryveld Daistar only smiled back. Kalli was rather pretty, with perfectly straight long golden hair that always shone like a waterfall of honey. Never a lock out of place, even after a night of no sleep, a six hour horse-ride, and some pretty serious magic. Did she bewitch it? The thought made Ista laugh. Aloud. Despite circumstances. Light-headed, she giggled again, until the nearest servant shot her a glare.
"Just seeing a bit of Andalinn," the young mage was saying. "I never traveled much out of Smotur until recently. I find I have a taste for it. One meets such interesting people." He grinned, his teeth blazing white. He wasn't handsome, not like the farrier's sons back home, or the man who chopped their wood for them, but it was a pleasant sort of face—doubly dangerous in someone who would wipe out entire villages with mage fire.
Kalli smiled back, like she did at the older of the farrier's sons, so sure of herself. Ista wished she could smile like that. Instead, she always ended up red and giggling, and Kallinesha would smirk.
Other conversations sprang up, and Ista couldn't follow their words anymore. She leaned her dizzy head against the wall and tried to think. That jolt of pain she'd felt when she stretched her senses into the fog around Ryveld Daistar, was that the same magic that had locked Mistress into the far-knowing trance? Some sort of protection against means of detecting the magic he wielded?
Then Ista heard the baron address Kalli. "Protectoressa Kallinesha, I heard you're apprenticing in magecraft."
Ista froze. Kalli, it seemed, did too. But only for a moment. "Yes, but I haven't taken a fancy to it." She sounded bored, and Ista wondered where she'd learned to lie like that. "I'm thinking of trying my hand at government, following my mother's lead."
"Ah, great woman, your mother," the baron said, then began telling stories of their youth together. But Ista watched Ryveld Daistar, watched his eyes narrow as he appraised Kalli. Did he suspect?
The lunch was very long, and Ista could hardly keep her eyes open and her legs straight. Her head still hurt, a dull ache that seemed to feed off itself. She'd never stayed up all night before, never felt the punishing force of magic like she'd just felt. The smells of the well-spiced food were making her alternately so hungry she could cry and so nauseated she could…well, cry. But the conversation kept making her giggle, as she floated above the dining hall on a white cloud. Then the cloud turned black. Everything turned black.
III
Kallinesha
When Ista collapsed, Ryveld Daistar stood up at the same time Kallinesha did.
The nearest servant bent over her. "She's fainted dead away, sir."
The baron sighed impatiently. "Well, find her a bed, take care of her. But I won't have my dessert interrupted, you hear?" He leaned toward Kallinesha. "Flaming apples with spiced honey."
Kallinesha didn't like his priorities, but if their positions were reversed, and it was his servant who had fainted so dramatically, maybe she would have done the same. She frowned. "If she doesn't wake soon, call for me," she told the baron's servant.
"Yes, Protectoressa."
She sat slowly down, and so did the hateful mage beside her. He'd probably done something to Ista, cast some spell Kallinesha couldn't recognize. The plan would just have to continue without her. Kallinesha would get him alone, give him the ring, and then try to find Ista.
So she pretended to enjoy Daistar's witty observations on the places he had been, while she made sure the servants kept his wineglass well filled. After the promised flaming apples—delicious, Kallinesha had to admit—she asked sweetly if perhaps Daistar could show her around the gardens. The baron winked and gave his consent, but Daistar frowned.
"I think perhaps I should retire to my chambers," Daistar said. "I have some study to do."
"Quite the scholar," said the baron, winking again. Kallinesha wasn't exactly sure which one of them he was winking at.
"What do you study?" she asked.
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," Daistar said. "Geography, history."
And magecraft Kallinesha added to herself. "How interesting. You must have a great many books. I'd love to see them."
She gave him her winningest smile, but his frown only deepened, his eyes wary. He suspected something. The apples in Kallinesha's stomach burst back into writhing flames of fear. Stupid baron, bringing up her training. Stupid Ista, calling attention to herself with that stage-stealing faint. Of course, he would have felt Kallinesha's magic anyway, a powerful mage like him. And Ista's power burned brighter, wilder. If he'd put any concentration into it, he would know they had used magic recently. Mistress always knew.
In her plans, Kallinesha had assumed he would be too powerful, too consumed with himself, to notice a couple of girls with the gift. Nearly a quarter of the population showed some ability for magic: enough, if developed, to turn a wilting apple temporarily crispy again, to start a fire if provided enough good kindling, to enchant fussy children to sleep. She had hoped—unrealistically, she now realized—that he would brush them off as common magic-wielders, unimportant. But the man before her looked like he'd never dismissed a threat in his life, no matter how small.
Maybe it was foolish to try to get him alone. She hadn't wanted to involve the baron and all his guards, but maybe that would be safer. She fumbled in her coin purse for the ring, swaddled in its layers of cloth.
"You take an interest in books?" the mage asked her. "I suppose you would, having studied magecraft."
"Oh, magecraft is so dry. I much prefer history and poetry." She tilted her head innocently as she dug in the cloth for the ring.
"Well, I suppose it can't hurt to show you my small travel collection."
Now he was trying to get her alone. She imagined her body, crumpled on the floor, black with mage fire or pale like Mistress's, all the life drained from her by evil magic she didn't even understand. Kallinesha's fingers touched the ring, and despite the fear that blew around her like summoned wind, she yawned.
She stamped one foot down on the other. Pain would help fight the call of sleep. "I do love poetry, but I also take an interest in jewelry. I picked this up from a trader a few days back. Would you take a look at it, tell me what you think it's worth?" She kept it in her fist, out of sight, so he would have to take it in his own hand to examine it.
He stared at her fist, stared into her eyes. Then he reached out and she dropped it into his waiting hand. Instantly she felt more alive. She readied herself to cast her strongest sleep enchantment and set her hand on her dagger, just in case.
He turned it over in his hand several times. His eyes should be drooping by now. He should be thinking of his nice soft bed, the smooth linen, the quiet peace of an afternoon nap. But when he spoke there was nothing sleepy about his words. "It's gold, I believe, but not very fine work."
The baron leaned forward. "I hope you didn't pay much for it."
What? The beauty enchantment should have dazzled a man like the baron, who clearly liked his comfort. But when Kallinesha looked again at the ring, it no longer sparkled as before. It was the simple piece she'd packed back home.
Daistar was staring at her again, and she feared she'd exposed her surprise.
"Maybe if you put it on…" she faltered.
He slid it halfway down his ring finger, twisted it, held it out to admire it, then took it off again. He grabbed her wrist, roughly, and pressed the ring into her palm. The sleep enchantment, she knew at once, was gone. How had he broken it so quickly? Mistress took hours to unravel spells as strong as the ones they'd cast. This was power as she'd never before seen. She had to stop him. She tightened her hold on the dagger. She'd only have one chance. It had to be his throat. But his hand was still on her wrist, and he tightened his grip.
"I wouldn't, if I were you," he whispered, as pain burst into life where he touched her.
His other hand, she saw, was on his own dagger, and she was sure beyond any doubt, without any magic to tell her so, that he'd had a lifetime more practice than she had. A mage and a warrior.
She took her hand off her dagger, jerked away from him, and stood up.
"Baron Selkimear, I believe I must see to my servant. Thank you for the sumptuous refreshment."
She fully expected not to live to see the outside of the dining hall. The ridiculous green carpet would be the last thing she trod on, hit in the back with a spell too powerful to survive. But she would not run. Her father would never run. She would die here doing her duty to her king, to Andalinn, and maybe her father would be proud of her after all. But the closer she got to the door, without dying, the more she thought about how much more proud her father would be if she succeeded. Summoning all her concentration, she cast a look-away spell on herself. She had no essence of transparency, no enforcements of desire, so the most she could hope for was that the diners would grow bored of her. But the Chaos Mage would be on his guard. She hurried her pace, every step seeming longer. When she flung herself through the door, he still hadn't worked any magic on her at all.
"Where is my servant?" she demanded of the guard in the hall.
"I don't know, Protectoressa."
The entrance wasn't far from here. It would be safest just to leave, put as much distance as she could between her and the evil behind her. Besides, maybe he'd already killed Ista. Maybe that faint was the sort of enchanted sleep from which she'd never rise. If Kallinesha risked her life for the girl and she was already dead…
She'd already been granted one miracle. It would be foolish to press her luck.
"Maybe in the servants' quarters?" the guard suggested helpfully.
The outside beckoned. The safety of open country. She took two steps that way. Stopped. If Ista wasn't already dead, the Chaos Mage would make sure of it. He'd turn her into a canvas for his ugly magics.
"Have my horses saddled and packed with our bags," she said, hoping he'd obey her as servants always seemed to, no matter whether they were hers. "And tell me where the servants' quarters are." She strode off in the direction the guard pointed. Once alone, she ran. She had to ask three more guards, and it became increasingly difficult to memorize the maze of corridors as she went. She was almost there when she heard shouts from some other part of the castle, somewhere behind her, urgent orders to search this place or that. They were looking for her. The Chaos Mage had set the baron's men on her trail. Coward. And she'd asked several guards for directions. It wouldn't take them long to trace her here. She flung herself through the door to the servants' quarters.
She found Ista in a bed in a room bare of any frills, tended by an old man too frail to really serve anymore.
"Has she awoken?" Kallinesha demanded.
The man only shook his head.
Kallinesha knelt down, felt for life. When she found it, the intensity of her relief astonished her. "Wake up." She shook Ista's shoulders, while the old man protested with toothless indignant chomps of his lips. "Wake up!"
~ ~ * ~ ~