Penrys didn’t like the windowless mage council room any better this time, but at least Zandaril and she were no longer the focus of attention. A private dinner had been provided, but it didn’t appeal to her, not after that news.
She noted the reappearance of Dhumkedbhod with an expressionless nod and withheld her reaction to his scowl. The others were the same—Zongchas, Vladzan, and the somewhat enigmatic Nyagchos, the man who had wanted to “see what would happen” when the first attack from the students was launched at her.
Nyagchos questioned Zongchas. “They did not descend north of the Craggies to spend the winter in the farmsteads there?”
Where the Kigali forces could be encouraged to confront them, with or without Rasesni assistance. Penrys ticked that prediction off her list.
“No, it’s definitely down into Wechinnat, headed for the Linit Kungzet route,” Zongchas said.
“They’re turning into Nagthari?” An agitated Dhumkedbhod rose from his seat. “To Dzongphan?”
Zongchas patted the table in front of him. “Sit down. We don’t know that. It’s just the road into Neshilik. If they turn west, well, then… But that hasn’t happened yet.”
Vladzan pursed his lips. “It’s more likely they’re planning to shelter here for the winter, in Neshilik itself.”
He turned to Zongchas. “Any news about the state of the…force he’s bringing?”
“They say the horde looks ill-nourished, but it hasn’t dispersed. They hoped it might, after leaving the mountains.”
He glanced down at one of the reports. “His guard of Khrebesni has grown. Might be larger than Tlobsung’s army now, though I don’t imagine it’s as effective.”
Zandaril muttered, “Tlobsung has no Voice behind him.”
“No, but we have her.” Zongchas waved a hand at Penrys.
Nyagchos asked, “But what will happen at the Gates if Tlobsung moves west to confront the Khrebesni? Will the Kigali squadron move right in behind him and bottle us up while he’s gone?”
He looked directly at Zandaril. “Or will it help us fight?”
Dhumkedbhod commented sourly, “Or will it leave us to do the bloody work while it bypasses the battle, preparing a way through to assault Dzongphan while we’re licking our wounds?”
Zandaril just shook his head. “I can’t answer for the Kigaliwen. I don’t know their plans.”
Penrys asked, “One thing I don’t understand. Why do those hill-tribes follow him?”
Dhumkedbhod turned to stare at her in disbelief. “What better proof of their god’s favor than success at the hands of his servant, Surdo?”
Vladzan added, placidly, “Some of them may hope for reward in this world, too.”
“I’m getting tired of this ‘throw the foreigners out’ policy,” Penrys said.
They stood in the hallway outside the mage council room. Inside, the meeting was continuing without them.
“You know this can’t be everyone,” Zandaril said.
“All the Rasesni wizards, you mean? You’re right, of course.” She began to stroll back in the direction of the main hall.
“There had to have been wizards involved in getting the information in those reports, spying on the Voice, despite what Zongchas told us,” she said. “I wonder how many. Enough to make a difference?”
“And is anyone training them?” Zandaril said.
“You notice Dhumkedbhod reappeared. Where’s he been hiding?” She glanced at Zandaril. “I’ve been reluctant to go probing for him, to maintain the illusion of cooperation. Maybe that should stop.”
“Where’s Veneshjug?” Zandaril asked. “That’s what I want to know. I’ve been looking for him since we got here, cooperation or not. Haven’t found him.”
“Maybe he’s with the others. It’d be awkward to have him here, after all.” She paused. “Unless he doesn’t know about the deaths when I triggered his trap.”
“Knows, and happy about it, I bet.” Zandaril muttered. “I’m going to find Dzantig and make him tell me whatever he can.”
Zandaril peeled off in the direction of the main hall. Penrys stopped where she was and considered. The noise and clatter that meant the hall was still full of diners ruled out the more public places. She wanted someplace private to sit, but not her room. Out of doors for preference, while the weather was still mild, for autumn.
What about the walkway, behind the colonnade? There must be some way onto that. Most of those rooms are empty, so it shouldn’t bother anyone.
She passed the hall and took the main stairway up to the second floor, then she turned to the north corner of the floor as the logical location for an outer access. She hadn’t seen one near Zongchas’s office, in the south corner, but there had to be a door somewhere.
It wasn’t in the corner, she discovered, but in the middle—an anomalous door in-between the doors of two rooms. She expected it to be locked, but once she had it open and looked more closely, she realized it was locked only from the outside.
Wouldn’t do to get trapped out here. She winced at the thought, even if a simple mind-cry would bring rescue.
It was easy enough to wedge a fragment of broken stonework into the mechanism to keep it from re-latching. She gingerly let the door drift shut, and her tinkering held. I’ll bring a bit of paper to use next time, if I come back.
She stayed along the edge of the wall instead of up front, near the colonnade, to hide herself from the square, but the view was pleasant even so, with the lingering glow of the sunset behind the buildings across the square, and the sun-warmed stonework preserving what was left of the heat of the day. The presence of stone benches every few yards demonstrated that the architects had planned this as a place for people to linger.
Well, things change in a few hundred years, I suppose. No one lingers here now, just as few are found in the corridors. This must have been quite a school when it was new, with several times the number of people that are in it now.
The benches didn’t get the benefit of rain, sheltered as they were by the building floor above them. Wind could only do so much to keep them clean. Reluctantly, Penrys brushed a layer of dirt off of the nearest one, then sniffed her soiled hand and wiped it on her breeches as she sat down.
Where were the other Rasesni wizards? Where would Dhumkedbhod vanish to? She scanned lightly in the direction of the mage council room and found no one. The meeting must be over.
This time she looked seriously throughout the building trying to match his signature. With fewer than fifty people, it wasn’t hard, and she found him. He was shielded, but not successfully against her, now that she was really looking. He must be relying on his shield, and it’s been working for him while I overlooked it. So, where is he?
The answer startled here—he was quite nearby, on her level and straight south of her. That put him in the corner room of this walkway, and that was Zongchas’s office. Who else is there?
She stood and crept toward the window at the end of the walkway while she looked. Zongchas, of course, and Vladzan. And one more. Who is that?
She knew that mind, but this time it wasn’t riding away from her in the middle of the night. Veneshjug. Zandaril was right. It makes sense—they need everyone but they wouldn’t have wanted to parade him in front of Zandaril and me. Can I get near enough to listen without giving myself away? After all, their minds may be shielded, but not their voices.
She suppressed her giggle and slunk along the inner wall as close as she could get to Zongchas’s window.
“I tell you if you rely on her for defense you’ll regret it.”
Penrys didn’t recognize the voice, and that made it Veneshjug’s, by elimination.
“She’s just as dangerous as Surdo, maybe more so, now that you idiots have helped train her and revealed our own weaknesses.”
Zongchas’s voice agreed, “She’s read your books, Vejug—she still has them, and your power-stones. Tell me again just why you felt you needed to set up that ridiculous mirror business, you and Vladzan.”
Veneshjug defended himself. “Not my fault, who could have expected interference by two wizards, from the Kigaliwen? But what she can do with power-stones is unprecedented, Vladzan says, and if she learns how to make more powerful devices… I’m told she’s been wandering through the library, unhindered. Why is that, Zongchas?”
Zongchas’s voice rose. “We need her to defeat Surdo—what choice do we have?”
The querulous tones of Dhumkedbhod broke in. “Would you trade an old tyrant for a new mistress? What god does she follow? Tell me. Not my god, not yours.”
“You’re all fools if you let her live a minute longer than necessary.” The crisp tone of Veneshjug’s voice sent a chill down her spine. “I don’t believe this tale about no memory for a moment.”
Zongchas protested. “I saw the truth of it in her mind.”
“You saw what she wanted you to see,” Dhumkedbhod scoffed.
Vladzan apparently agreed. “He may be right. She’s so strong, who knows what she could conceal?”
The uncertainty creeping into Zongchas’s voice disturbed her. “You think she was toying with us when she revealed her own weaknesses?”
Veneshjug said, “How do we know your tale of her encounter with Surdo is even true? Maybe she’s working with him, luring us into a trap. She’s the same as he is, with that chain, so how likely is it that she’s his enemy? That she doesn’t even know him?”
“I find it hard to believe that that Zandaril can conceal these lies, too,” Zongchas said.
Veneshjug dismissed the problem. “He’s either under her control altogether, or working to see how the Zannib can benefit. The more fool he—she’ll betray him, wait and see.”
That doesn’t sound right. Why would he think that? What’s he doing, setting something up? Penrys’s ears pulled back on her scalp. This isn’t just dislike, this is something else.
Dhumkedbhod asked, “And what’s the Kigali interest in all of this?”
“They’re not wizards. They don’t understand the danger. Anything that defeats us is good for them.”
Penrys marveled at how Veneshjug had an answer for everything.
A commotion at the doorway interrupted them with a summons for Veneshjug. He offered an excuse, “Something I have to go do now,” and left. All the others except Zongchas followed him out.
Penrys froze in place until she heard him settle in his chair, then she crept back a few paces. What had she overheard? What were the ramifications? She’d known some of the polite relationship between them had been artificial but this level of active ill-will took her breath away.
She needed to find Zandaril. Could they survive this alliance? Even if they succeeded? She wished she dared to bespeak him, but now she feared they could be overheard.
