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Bryar spent the afternoon huddled in the conference room with Arwen, the council, and, surprisingly, Joss.
“I kept my Bard’s sash prominent, so I was safe from ordinary robbers,” he said, filling them in. “Ezra figures they were mercenaries, possibly from the other side of the hills. The power cell was a secret, but they knew to look for it.”
“The blame lies elsewhere, not with you,” Arwen said. “I’m sorry for your injuries.”
Bryar managed a half smile. “Thanks. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t have hidden it at night-”
“And possibly been killed instead of beaten up,” Joss said. “Ezra should have sent two. You needed a lookout.”
“With hindsight, yes,” Arwen said. “But given the situation then, maintaining a plausible cover story required that Bryar travel alone.”
He considered mentioning the effect of the broken nose on his singing voice, but thought better of it. Enough consternation filled the room without adding to it. He trusted his vocal prowess would heal along with his face. “We relied on secrecy. Whoever they were, they weren’t from the Midland. They spoke with strange accents. And that they knew about the cell at all...”
“It’s by far the worst disruption we’ve experienced,” Fergus said.
“They dumped out the mulch I’d used to screen it. Didn’t want to lug the extra weight. Whoever’s controlling them, they said he’d never know and they’d add fresh dirt before they delivered the cell. When the Aura comes back it’ll be close to where they’re taking it.”
“Gauvain, do you figure?”
“Willow’s Mage? Wouldn’t surprise me. Ezra thinks so.”
“Next steps?” Arwen asked.
“When it gets to where it’s going, we’ll track it like we did before,” Joss said.
Quinn spoke up. “Which we were able to do because of seepage into the earth. Gauvain, or whoever, probably did the same. He may be smart enough to keep it elevated.”
“Good point,” Arwen said. “Which leaves us with supposition.”
“Maybe not,” Bryar said. “Given the strange accent, and the level of secrecy, it’s on its way to Borgonne. There’s no other explanation. And that means Gauvain.”
“Not necessarily.” Arwen was silent a moment. “This should be kept confidential.” Her gaze surveyed them, hesitating on Joss.
“This is my home,” he said. “I intend to do all I can to preserve it.”
“Good.” Arwen measured her words carefully. “Borgonne developed a system of Mages, similar to our Weavers here but with no central training. A Mage may or may not take in apprentices, and they become part of his lineage. His lineage – they are almost always men. Female Mages are rare and tend to be scorned, or so I gather. These days, two wield the most power, Gauvain and another man named Duncan. They are both in their fifties and at the peak of their abilities. They can be charming, but trustworthy? No.”
Bryar tamped down a surge of anger, forcing his speech to factual rather than heated. “And yet you let three of us cross the hills with no preparation. You let Willow-”
“Do you honestly believe I could have stopped Willow? There are good people, honorable Mages, and I’d hoped... well, never mind. Gauvain and Duncan have fought for supremacy their whole lives. I feel certain that one or the other of them orchestrated this assault.”
“Then it’s simple,” Bryar said. “From the general location, we narrow it down to which Mage and go after it.”
“Given their powers? They’re much stronger than anyone here.”
“That’s why Ezra insisted I reclaim it without my Auric connection. I’d be outclassed.”
“So we get it the old-fashioned way,” Joss added. “Break and enter.”
Quinn had been silent. Now she said, “Where is this Duncan’s headquarters?”
“I’m not sure,” Arwen replied. “He used to be based a day or so east of Orlan. Personally, I’m betting on Gauvain. He’s the nimbler mind of the two, and he’s had recent contact with our people. Duncan may not know of the cell’s existence. It’s the kind of information Gauvain would keep to himself.”
Bryar wondered how Arwen came by her knowledge of these Mages, but didn’t ask. His time with Ezra had taught him that the older generation of Weavers held their secrets.
“So Bryar and I should prepare to cross the hills again,” Joss said.
“No.” Arwen’s gaze swept over them again, then she nodded as if confirming a conclusion she’d already drawn. “Joss, I want you to leave for Hallan a few days after Willow. The disruption’s hard on everyone, but for her it will be even more so. She needs the contact. No...” She drummed her fingers on the table. “I think we’ve just found a use for your friend. Tell Kiril to report here in an hour. I expect him and Bryar to be on the road as soon as we locate the cell.”
Stunned silence met her command. “We can’t trust him,” Bryar finally sputtered. Beside him he could feel Quinn virtually quivering with indignation.
“Think of it as supporting him while he finds his place here. He strikes me as an excellent choice for a – what did Joss call it? – a break and enter.”
“Cat burglar,” Joss chuckled, clearly amused by the idea. “I’ve told you before, he’s a good man. It’s just taking him a while to settle into life here.”
“And we can’t send the two of them,” Daren put in. “Neither of them has Auric access. They can’t cross the hills.”
“I think they can,” Arwen said. “Bryar has access. It’s just shielded from him at the moment. But we’ll formulate a backup plan, in case I’m wrong.” She stood. “Joss, make your preparations. The rest of you, one hour.”
As Arwen left, Fergus touched Bryar’s arm. “Check with the Healers, son. They’ll see to it your voice comes back good as new.”
Bryar grimaced. “You knew, huh?”
“That nasal twang when you speak, hard to miss. Get yourself to the healing rooms.”
Fergus followed the others trailing out in Arwen’s wake as Joss clapped a heavy hand on Bryar’s shoulder. “Good to see you.”
“You, too. I’d be more comfortable with you having my back.”
“Care for a tisane?”
“Caff. I’ve been subjected to Rebecca’s tisanes for the last five days.”
Joss chortled. “Lucky you.”
Strolling to the dining hall, Bryar took a deep breath and slowly released it. Coming home always felt right. Seeing Mari again yesterday had given his spirits a boost. And Joss; the bond between him and the big man had strengthened with the training.
But sentimentality held no place in his life nowadays. He hadn’t tasted a mug of caff since the attack, and nothing sounded better.
~~
THAT EVENING, BRYAR faced Kiril across mushroom cutlets and mounds of soft patates. “Why’d you agreed to this, anyway?” he asked. The hours they had spent with Arwen had failed to assuage his distrust. Kiril had complied with Arwen’s demands, but Bryar could think of no one less eligible to accompany him.
From his scowl, Kiril was no more thrilled than Bryar. “It’s something to do. And getting the cell back is important to you people.”
“In case it’s not clear, I’m reluctant to take this on with someone I don’t trust.”
Kiril set his fork on his plate with more force than necessary. “Laying it on the line?”
“Better we understand each other.”
“Arwen’s already subjected me to an inquisition. Drop it, will you?”
Bryar kept his voice carefully unemotional. “You tried to take the cell from us. More than once.”
“I said drop it.” Kiril hissed. “As it happens, I don’t want your damn cell anymore.”
“Well, that’s a change.”
Kiril masked his feelings well; he betrayed little outward sign beyond a tightness around his mouth. “I’m no happier about this than you are. But I’ll babysit you until we get the damn thing back. Who knows, I might like Orlan. It sounds more sophisticated than this backwoods.”
“It sounds nasty. But maybe you’d fit in better.”
Both men glared, the meal forgotten. Then they both looked up as Quinn appeared beside their table. Bryar knew her too well to miss the set of her shoulders, way her eyes narrowed. Quinn was more than capable of carrying a ton of attitude, and hurling it like a weapon at whoever got in her way. “Gee, you guys will have such a nice walk together,” she said sweetly.
Bryar watched as tension flared between Quinn and Kiril, so strong as to be almost visible, sparks from a fire stone kindling a conflagration.
Kiril’s scowl turned into a cocky smile. “Tell me, Miss Know-It-All. How come the hills are so sacrosanct? What’s kept people from going back and forth whenever they please?”
“Like you tried to?” she asked, her voice almost dripping honey.
He didn’t rise to the bait, although the smile faded. “I have damn good tracking skills. I should have been able to get through.”
“Maybe you should reassess your skills,” Quinn said. “As for why... why should we tell you?”
“Any chance of finishing my meal in peace without you two sniping at each other?” Bryar asked.
Quinn touched his shoulder, exchanged one last smoldering look with Kiril, then turned on her heel and joined the buffet line.
With a nod in Bryar’s direction, Kiril carried his bowl to the hatch. On his way out, he passed Quinn and pointed a finger at her, a smug grin plastered on his face.
Bryar could sense Quinn fuming from across the room.