Chapter Four Links in the Ether

From the baffled expression on Tevi’s face, Jemeryl could tell, even before she spoke, that she had not seen the brooch before. Tevi studied the griffin design for a few seconds and then flipped it over, as if hoping the reverse side would be more enlightening.

“No. Yenneg didn’t give it to me. But it has to have come from him. The silver griffin is his emblem.” Tevi handed the brooch back.

“Then how did it end up on the floor of the bedroom?”

“Maybe it caught on my clothing while I was playing on the battle table and dropped off when I was getting ready for bed.”

Jemeryl lay the brooch in the palm of her hand and rocked it back and forth pensively, feeling the weight. Candlelight glinted on the diamonds and rippled over the silver griffin. The same candlelight was reflected in the black glass of the windows. In daytime, these gave views over the inner bailey on one side and the plain below Tirakhalod on the other. Currently, clouds blanketed the stars and moon, and nothing could be seen outside. Most of the room was hidden by shadow.

The army patrol had arrived back at the castle a few hours earlier, allowing enough time for Tevi to wash, eat, and give an account of her exploits. While they ate and talked, Jemeryl had sat beside Tevi in the warm firelight, feeling snug and relaxed. She was thankful to have Tevi back safe and would have liked to forget about the rest of Tirakhalod for the evening, but the brooch raised issues that had to be discussed.

Jemeryl shifted around so that she was nestled more comfortably against Tevi’s body and held up the brooch. “I don’t think so. There’s nothing that could snag on clothing well enough so that it wouldn’t drop off while you walked around the bailey. The pin is locked in its clasp.”

“How else could it have got here?”

Klara gave a derisive squawk. “Are the pair of you having some sort of contest to see who can act the densest? Obviously, Yenneg came snooping around while Jem was busy in Bykoda’s library.”

Jemeryl frowned at the magpie. It was the simplest option, and one that had already occurred to her in the previous four days while waiting for Tevi’s return, but it was not an answer that she was happy with.

Tevi spoke first. “It’s a bit much to swallow. Yenneg comes in here for some unknown reason. He’s so careful that he leaves no sign at all that he’s been around except for dropping one highly identifiable item. You’ve got to admit it’s unlikely.”

“I agree. It’s too blatant a clue. It’s more likely that someone with limited imagination planted it to make us think that Yenneg was snooping.”

“Why?”

“Who knows? Maybe Ranenok or Anid did it. They heard that you’d been to see him and wanted to sow some mistrust.”

“I think it’s too unsubtle even for that.”

Jemeryl thought for a moment and then sighed. “You’re right. It’s actually a bit insulting if anyone thought we’d be taken in so easily.”

“Oh well, if we’re talking insults, they’re never in short supply around here.”

“But neither is plotting and scheming.”

Tevi grinned. “True.”

“I just can’t think what sort of plot it might be part of.”

“Maybe it’s supposed to be a warning.”

Klara hopped up onto Tevi’s knee. “You mean a bit like slipping a note under the door that says, Don’t trust Yenneg. He’s a conniving bastard.”

An unsettling idea was tiptoeing around at the back of Jemeryl’s mind. It was going to have to be faced. “It might be a threat.”

“Threat?”

Jemeryl nodded. “I’m just worried that this has happened so soon after Bykoda gave me the talisman. We’ve been here over two and a half years, and this is the first time something like this has happened.”

“As far as we know.”

“Oh, I don’t mean about someone coming in here. We’ve probably been searched on dozens of occasions. This is the first time that someone has deliberately let us know about it.”

“But who, apart from Bykoda, knows that you have the talisman?”

Instead of answering, Jemeryl slipped from under Tevi’s arm and went to the adjoining room. An iron-bound chest stood at the foot of their bed. Jemeryl lifted the lid and took out the box Bykoda had given to her. She returned to Tevi.

The flickering candles were good for creating an intimate atmosphere but not for seeing by. Jemeryl conjured a mage light for better illumination and examined the outside of the box, using not only her eyes and fingers, but also her extended sorcerer’s senses. The carving on the lid was intricate and cast strange perturbations through the upper dimensions, but it was not the sort of magic she was seeking.

Jemeryl opened the box, which was reassuringly empty. The talisman was far too dangerous, in her opinion, to be left lying in their rooms, and she had it on a chain around her neck, even while sleeping. She was relieved, though, that their visitor had not placed one of the nastier totems in its place.

The bottom of the box was lined with red silk padding. This came out after a little experimental tugging and beneath it, embedded in the wood, was a small silver disc like a coin.

“Stupid. I should have checked before.” Jemeryl was angry with herself.

“What is it?”

“A tracer charm.”

“It lets you trace the box?”

“Not me, but whoever’s got the other matching half of the charm. Tracer charms come in bonded pairs. They have an unbreakable link between them in the ether.”

“Can you use this part to trace it back and find out who has the other part?”

“No. It only goes one way. This half is the caller, not the hearer.”

Tevi frowned. “So you mean that whoever has the mate of this charm will be able to tell that Bykoda has given you the talisman?”

“Yes.”

“And if that person is the assassin?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Bykoda thought the assassin was after the device. She’d wanted it to come as a surprise to her killer after she was dead that the talisman was no longer in Tirakhalod.”

Tevi slumped down in the seat. Her eyes were fixed on the fire. “This changes things, doesn’t it? We’re going to have to find out who the assassin is. We can’t save Bykoda. To tell the truth, I’m not sure if I want to, but now the assassin will be after us as well.”

“Maybe not. I see two possibilities. One is as you say, that the assassin knows I have the talisman and searched our rooms. All they found was the empty box, but they decided to leave a message. If that person was Yenneg, the message is one of bravado. He wants me to know that he’s after me.” Jemeryl frowned. “And if it was someone else it’s a bit harder to decode.”

“Don’t you wish they’d just written a note. Why do sorcerers have to make everything so complicated?” Klara said.

Tevi pushed the magpie off her knee and asked her own question. “You think there is another possibility?”

“Yes, if we’re lucky. Bykoda herself may have put this tracer charm in the box. The talisman wasn’t something that she wanted to lose. I’m going to be seeing her tomorrow morning. I’ll ask.”

“Do you want me to return the brooch to Yenneg? If he’s the one who left it, we’d be sending our own message back.”

Jemeryl held the jewel up in the firelight, thinking. “No, we’ll hang on to it a little while longer. We don’t know if he was the one who left it, and even if it was, I’d rather keep him guessing.”

 

Jemeryl’s footsteps echoed loudly along the stone hallway in Bykoda’s keep. A line of narrow windows overlooked the central courtyard on her left. From them, parallel bars of morning sunlight striped the flagstones ahead of her. At the far end, the entrance to Bykoda’s private rooms was flanked on either side by a silent thrall.

Just as she was approaching, the heavy wooden door opened and Kharel backed out, clasping a couple of rolled scrolls. The steward turned around and acknowledged Jemeryl with a dignified nod.

Kharel did not look surprised to see her, but seers rarely looked surprised. They never laughed at the punch line to jokes either. Foresight was not reliable enough to be the reason, and Jemeryl suspected that seers deliberately cultivated a stone face to create the facade of all-knowing wisdom. She was sure that there was no good reason why they could not focus on the face of the person they were talking to. Their eyes were no different from anyone else’s.

“You are here to see Bykoda.” Kharel said it as a statement, not a question.

Jemeryl mentally notched up yet one more irritating habit of seers. “Yes. Is she available?”

“For now.” The steward gave another regal nod and started to walk away.

“Before you go...”

Something in Kharel’s tone had set Jemeryl wondering whether the seer knew about Bykoda’s impending death. Kharel certainly would if she were the assassin. Yet, even if she was innocent, her foresight might have given her a warning. Also, Bykoda had admitted to casting oracles to find out more about the assassination. If she had needed help, Kharel would be the best qualified person in Tirakhalod to give it.

“You wish something from me.”

“Um...I was...” Jemeryl hesitated, suddenly feeling foolish and wishing she had thought before speaking. How could she broach the subject? Bluntly asking, ‘Do you know that Bykoda is going to be murdered?’ was not an option.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to ask if you had any plans for after Bykoda...er, for what you might do in the future, if you weren’t needed as Bykoda’s steward anymore.”

“I trust that Bykoda will not seek to replace me. I certainly have no plans to leave Tirakhalod. Where do you think I might want to go?”

“Lyremouth. To…er...look in the library there. There’s a whole section about divination. And there’s lots of other seers in Lyremouth, if there was anything you wanted to talk to them about. Anything um, unsettling. And so I just thought maybe you might be interested.” Jemeryl stopped talking before she made herself sound even more inane than she already had.

Kharel’s expression was a touch more condescending than normal. “I have been Bykoda’s steward for forty years. After all this time, I will not leave her.”

“But she’s getting old, and she won’t live forever. After she dies, there is no saying what will happen at Tirakhalod.”

“I also am not young.”

“You’re still younger than she is.”

“Even so, I will not long outlive her.” Kharel gave another of her dignified nods and turned away.

Jemeryl let her go. Of all seers’ irritating traits, by far the worst was that after talking to them, you were always left feeling more confused than before. Was Kharel’s prediction accurate? And if so, did she know how ominous the implication was for herself? The nearest thing to worthwhile information was that if Kharel was telling the truth, it made it rather less likely that she would be the assassin.

After one last look at the departing steward, Jemeryl pushed open the door and stepped through.

Bykoda’s private quarters occupied half of the keep. The accommodation was extensive, and from what Jemeryl had seen, largely unused. The old Empress mainly kept to a few of the smaller rooms on the lower floors. Did the large halls start to seem too lonely with only the thralls for company?

The first room a visitor entered was the audience chamber, noticeably more austere and imposing than the other areas that Jemeryl had seen. Bykoda was standing by a window, staring out pensively. She turned around at the sound of the door closing.

“Ah, Jemeryl. I’ve found the diagrams you were after. They’re on my desk in the study.”

“Thank you.”

“And while I was looking for them I came across something else that I thought you might be interested in. Come along. I’ll show you.”

Jemeryl felt a grin spread across her face. Anything Bykoda thought she might be interested in was certain to be well worth seeing. Jemeryl knew that Tevi disliked the Empress and understood the reasons why but could not fully share her partner’s view.

Bykoda was ruthless and autocratic. She had no qualms about killing, yet neither did she take pleasure in it. She seized what she wanted, without regard to ethics, and accepted that others would be playing by the same rules. Even though her own life was now forfeit, Bykoda was not calling foul. And Jemeryl was sure when her subjects came to look back on Bykoda’s rule, they would reckon that the peace her Empire brought had done more good than harm.

On the way to the study, Jemeryl thought to ask about the charm before she got distracted. “Bykoda, I was examining the box the talisman was in last night, and I saw there was a tracer charm in it. Do you know anything about it?”

“Oh yes. I’d had Mavek fit it many years ago. I’d forgotten it was still there.” Bykoda smiled. “I might as well give you the other half. I have no use for it. It should be in my study as well. I’ll dig it out for you.”

“Thank you.”

Jemeryl felt a knot of tension inside herself dissolve. The question of Yenneg’s brooch was still unanswered, but it was the lesser of her concerns. Bykoda’s assassin must be someone extremely powerful and adept, and Jemeryl would rather not have that someone pursuing her on the way home to Lyremouth.

The study doors closed behind them. Bykoda walked over to her desk. Jemeryl followed, smiling. Now she could concentrate on the promised entertainment.

 

Tevi was not around when Jemeryl returned to their rooms. Most likely, she was over at Yenneg’s playing on the battle table. Jemeryl shook her head at the thought. She could no more understand Tevi’s fascination with pretend wars than Tevi could understand her interest in the study of magic.

Jemeryl wandered through to the fireside and sat, stretching out her legs. The talisman box was where she had left it the night before beside the hearth. She fished the half of the tracer charm that Bykoda had given her from her pocket and examined it. The engraved pattern was like a flat cord looped around in an elaborate knot. The only difference from the half in the box that anyone ungifted would notice was that grooves in one were ridges on the other. If pressed together, the two would fit seamlessly.

To a sorcerer, the differences were far more conspicuous. Idly, Jemeryl lifted the silver disc and aligned it in the energy currents of the sixth dimension. Soon the disc started to grow warm between her fingers. Once it was ready, she waved her hand over it, an incidental gesture caused when her aura in the fifth dimension tripped the forces into play. Instantly, the disc was ice cold, and the energy congealed into a thin link through the ether.

At the sight, Jemeryl’s mood of relaxed satisfaction evaporated. The link did not go to the talisman box. Instead it streamed off, out of the room. Jemeryl sat up straight. Was it possible that Bykoda had made a mistake and given her the wrong charm? She slipped from the chair and retrieved the other half from the box, then held the two up side by side. Seen together, it was obvious that the charms were not identical. The loops and twists did not form the same knot-work pattern.

Jemeryl sat back on her heels, thinking furiously. She did not know what was going on, but the first thing was to find the other half of the charm that Bykoda had given her. The caller from the box was inert and useless to her, but this new half was a hearer, still bonded to its mate, and could lead her to it. She stood up and began following the link, reeling it in like a fisherman.

The ethereal trace led her from the tower, through the garden, and out of the inner bailey. At the gatehouse, Jemeryl paused and looked around, confused. She had expected the trail to take her back to Bykoda’s keep, or even to one of the acolytes’ quarters. Where was it going? The nature of the link provided no clue as to its length. She could only hope that the caller was close at hand.

Jemeryl turned her back on the inner bailey and continued following the line in the ether. The guards at the gate stood impassive as she went by. She passed the officers’ quarters in the middle bailey, the prison, and the apothecary. And then, just when it seemed that she would be led farther on to the outer bailey, the trail turned aside and brought her up sharply at the entrance to Mavek’s forge. Jemeryl looked up at the black smoke overhead belching from the huge chimneys, then she opened the door and stepped inside.

Mavek’s main workshop was a cavernous hall. Chaotic activity filled the space. Daylight from high windows sifted through rising smoke and steam. Blue mage lights hung in midair, and red flickering from forges glinted over the workers. Showers of sparks erupted under blacksmiths’ hammers. And yet, despite all this light, the hall was like the gloomy interior of a cave. Tools and half-built equipment lined the walls and hung from the ceiling like stalactites. In the middle of the workshop, a construction was taking shape resembling a large armored scorpion twice the size of a man.

Mavek and a half a dozen of his apprentices were busy on the creation. His voice boomed over the sounds of hammer and fire.

“Careful now. Lower the forward plate.”

No one had noticed Jemeryl’s arrival. In fact, she suspected she would have to shout and wave her arms to have any hope of getting anyone’s attention. And still the tracer charm pulled her on. Quietly, she sidled around the edge of the hall, keeping to shadows. A corridor led off from the commotion of the main hall. As Jemeryl slipped away down it, she was followed by the sound of Mavek’s shouts. “Towards me. Towards me. Keep it steady.”

The ethereal trail ended in a small side room. A long workbench filled one wall. Moulds, files, and shapeless lumps of metal were scattered across it. Other tools, mainly hammers, hung on the walls. The bench marked the end of the link, but only at the last moment did Jemeryl realize that the trail ended not on it, but under.

She knelt and crawled beneath. Where the flagstones of the floor met the wall was a thin crack. In the light of a summoned globe, Jemeryl could just about make out the edge of a silver disc hidden inside it. Extracting the charm was awkward, even with telekinesis. Whoever put it there had clearly not been concerned about retrieving it again.

Jemeryl shuffled out from under the bench and stood up, frowning. Why hide the charm? And why in this room? She looked around thoughtfully. The mysteries of the blacksmith’s craft could be difficult for the untrained to comprehend. Yet, even to her eyes, it was obvious that some of the moulds on the bench were for making tracer charms. Further confirmation was found on the shelf above. Three new pairs of charms were lined up, ready for use.

Jemeryl considered the matching pair in her hands, the charm she had got from Bykoda and the one she had found under the bench. Her mind bounced around through a series of half ideas, none of them completely satisfactory. She needed to talk to Tevi. Jemeryl dropped the charms into her pocket and left the room.

The scene in the workshop had changed while she had been away. The noise had dropped to a low rumble and Mavek was standing by the exit, apparently trying to get a perspective view on the metal scorpion. The apprentices were also keeping back, awaiting the master blacksmith’s judgment.

Creeping away unnoticed was not going to be easy. Jemeryl decided not to try. A few steps away was a low cabinet that would serve as a seat. She shifted over to it and then sat, trying to give the impression that she had been there for some time, awaiting a suitable break in the activity.

At least a minute passed before she was spotted. An apprentice trotted over to her. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“I want to talk to Mavek, but I don’t want to disturb him in the middle of what he’s doing.”

“I think he’s nearly finished.”

Jemeryl nodded as if he had confirmed what she already suspected. “I’ve been watching you with the scorpion. I assume it’s some sort of weapon.”

“The weapon is inside. A poison dart shooter. The case is just for show. But it never hurts to frighten the enemy before the fighting starts.” The apprentice grinned. “I’ll tell Mavek you want him.”

“It’s not urgent. Whenever he’s got a minute will do.”

Mavek did not take much longer to finished his appraisal of the scorpion and join her. What clothes he wore seemed mainly for protecting his more vulnerable parts from sparks. Sweat beaded on his face and rolled through the forest of hair on his chest and thighs.

“Do you need help?”

“I’ve come to ask a favor. You know that I’m returning to the Protectorate soon. I was hoping I could have a tour of your workshop before I go.” This was not merely an improvised excuse. Jemeryl had intended to make the request next time she saw the blacksmith.

“Sure. Why not now?”

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work.”

Mavek gave a broad smile and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Now’s as good a time as any. I’ve got to wait for that to cool down.”

He led the way to one side of the workshop where an assortment of artifacts were at various stages of assembly. Their first stop was by a black metal breastplate. Mavek rapped it with his knuckles.

“We been trying to create some fireproof armor. Well...fireproof isn’t that hard. You don’t come across much on a battlefield that will melt dwarf steel, apart from dragon breath. The problem is the people inside still get cooked. With this, we’ve been building up the metal in layers. In the middle is a grid of powdered fire agate. It links into the conduits of the sixth dimension and carries away the heat instantly.”

Jemeryl stepped forwards, intrigued. Like so much she saw in Tirakhalod, it was both deceptively simple and breathtakingly imaginative. “Wow. Does it work?”

“Unfortunately it works too well. The problem we have now is that the person wearing it freezes to death.”

The tour continued through the workshop. Most of it made sense, although there were some items she was going to have to ask Tevi about later. The golems she understood, but Jemeryl had no idea of just how impressive it was for a crossbow to shoot a bolt through one eighth steel at four hundred yards, or why you might want self-destroying caltrops. Some of the inventions she found frankly horrifying. She had never realized that there might be so many ways to disembowel an opponent.

At last, as the tour was reaching its end, she was moved to ask, “Don’t you ever wish your work might do more to make people’s lives better, rather than killing them?”

Mavek carefully placed the war axe he had been demonstrating back on the rack. For a few seconds he stood staring at it, then he turned and looked down at her. His eyes held a sober intensity.

“Yes. Sometimes. But the easier Bykoda’s soldiers win, then the less of them that get killed. And if they don’t win there’s an awful lot of people whose lives would become an awful lot worse.” He shrugged. “And some of my work is harmless...like over here.”

He went to another bench. On it were a row of cushions with assorted weights balanced on top.

“What are they?” Jemeryl asked, confused.

“Inflatable cushions.” Mavek grinned. “Bykoda’s council meetings can go on forever. With the current stuffed cushions, after four hours, you can feel the imprint of each individual straw in your arse. I was hoping these would be more comfortable. But I’m having to sort out issues. At the moment they tend to deflate, and you get seasick if you shift around too much. I’m thinking about dividing the inside into dozens of individual compartments.”

Mavek turned away from the bench and sighed. His gesture took in all of his workshop. “But you’re right. The cushions are just a diversion. Nearly all my life has been spent working out better ways to kill people. Maybe I should have moved to your Protectorate when I was younger.

Then I could have worked on designing a better ploughshare.” He shook his head sadly. “But it’s too late now.”

“It’s never too late.”

“Maybe.” Despite what he said, Mavek’s voice held no hope.

Jemeryl patted his shoulder in encouragement. “Believe it. But I’ve taken up far too much of your time. Thank you for showing me around. It was very kind of you.”

A ghost of a smile returned to Mavek’s face. “Anytime.”

 

Tevi lay sprawled on the sheepskin rug before the fire, staring at the ceiling. Running through her head was the last skirmish from the battle table. Her troops had won, but at a high cost. She needed to work out better tactics that would mean fewer lives lost. The sound of the door cut short her musing.

Jemeryl entered, stripping off her cloak. She smiled at Tevi in greeting. “Have you been back long?”

“Just a few minutes. How did you know I’d gone out?”

“You weren’t here earlier when I stopped by.”

Klara II had been riding on Jemeryl’s shoulder. The magpie swooped across the room, landed on a perch above the fire, and then buried her beak under her wing. Tevi watched her settle and then turned back to Jemeryl. “I was over at Yenneg’s. Playing on the battle table.”

“I guessed. How did you do?”

“I won. Twice.” Tevi sat up and was about to go into more details, but then she noted Jemeryl’s distracted expression. “Is everything all right?”

Jemeryl joined her by the fire. “I asked Bykoda about the tracer charm.”

“From your face, I’m guessing that the charm was nothing to do with her.”

“Not quite. She had one put in the box. But somebody made a swap.” Jemeryl quickly summarized her morning.

“So what does it all mean?” Tevi asked once the account was finished.

“Somebody got a new set of charms and made a switch. I’d guess they took the half from Bykoda’s study. The talisman box was locked up in her storeroom and a lot harder to get at.”

“Getting in the study without her knowing still can’t have been easy.”

Jemeryl wrinkled her nose. “Well, Kharel would be best placed. But over the years, I’d bet that all the acolytes have had a chance.”

“I still don’t see how it works out.”

“I’ve been thinking it through. What probably happened is that someone went into the workshop, got a pair of charms, and hid the caller in the nearest spot. They took the hearer away and kept hold of it until the opportunity arose to make the swap. Once they’d done that, they then had the hearer that was linked to the box, so they could trace the talisman. And all Bykoda had was a useless charm that would just lead her back to the forge. But unless she looked carefully, or tested it out, she wouldn’t know.”

“How hard would it be to get the charms from the forge?”

“Really easy. A couple of spare sets were just sitting in the workroom. Anyone could walk in and pick them up. Nobody noticed me.”

“So it doesn’t help us narrow down the suspects?”

“Nope. No help at all.”

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Tevi went to answer. One of Yenneg’s officers was outside holding a small glass bottle.

“Captain Tevirik. Commander Yenneg sends this as a token of his admiration for your victories this morning.”

Tevi took the offered item. “Please thank the commander for me.”

“Yes, Captain Tevirik.” The officer went.

Tevi wandered back to the fire and carefully removed the stopper from the bottle. The scent of sweet musk filled the room. “Perfume?”

Jemeryl took the bottle and examined it. “I know this. It comes from the islands out on the eastern ocean. And it’s the genuine stuff, not magic. It must have cost Yenneg a fortune to get.”

Tevi frowned. It was not the sort of gift she would have expected from a commanding officer, but then the casual acceptance of bribery at Tirakhalod always felt alien to her. “I guess Yenneg is hoping to impress me.”

“Oh yes, he must really want to have Captain Tevirik in his army.”

Tevi put the stopper back and placed the bottle beside the talisman box. She gave her lover an accusing look. “It’s bad enough all of them calling me Tevirik. There’s no need for you to start.”

Jemeryl smiled, unrepentant. “It’s your own fault for telling them what Tevi was short for.”

“Somebody asked me, but I never said it was my name.”

“But Tevi is such a blatant diminutive. People clearly didn’t think it was the right thing to call an officer. But if you like, I’ll let people know even Tevi is just a nickname, and that you should really be called Strikes-like-lightning.”

Tevi’s glare only had the effect of sending Jemeryl into a fit of giggles. The women of the Western Isles had unconventional ideas about suitable names for warriors. Her real name was something that Tevi had been very pleased to leave behind. Jemeryl was the only person on the mainland in whom she had confided. Some days, Tevi even regretted telling her.

 

Bykoda’s face was dispassionately thoughtful as she examined the twin tracer charms laid on her desk. “So someone has outmaneuvered me. It’s about time that one of them managed it.” Her tone even sounded admiring.

“Do you have any idea who might have done it? Or when?”

“No. Mavek brought me the box with the charm in it. I tested it out to make sure I was happy with the workmanship. Then I put the hearer in the cupboard over there and haven’t touched it since. There’s been no need. And at one time or another, all of them have been left alone in here. Anyone could have made the swap.” Bykoda drummed on the desk with the fingernails. “A quite unforgivable oversight on my part.”

“You understand that I’m worried.”

“Oh yes. I am too. The chances are far too high for comfort that my killer is the one who wanted to trace the talisman. And I don’t like the thought of them getting their hands on the talisman any more than you like the thought of being ambushed on the way back to Lyremouth.” Bykoda left her desk and went to stare out through her study window.

“I’m afraid that finding out about it hasn’t really told us much.” Bykoda turned back to face Jemeryl. “On no. It has told us a great deal. On a practical level, it has told us that we need to take much more care over your return to Lyremouth than we had supposed. Also it tells us that my killer is working to well laid-out plans, rather than merely seizing an opportunity. And that they are capable of subtlety and inventiveness. Which I find rather satisfying. I would so hate to be murdered by a lucky fool.” She sighed. “I only wish that circumstances would allow me to make a decent fight of it.”

Jemeryl felt a half smile touch her mouth, but then she looked again at the expression on Bykoda’s face and it died. Beneath the placid exterior was a cold-blooded resolve, far more dangerous than any screaming rage.

 

Except for Klara dozing atop a bookcase, their rooms were empty when Tevi returned from a ride beyond the castle walls. The magpie was such a constant companion of Jemeryl’s that Tevi was surprised to see her.

“Where’s Jem?”

The magpie lifted her head at the sound of the door closing. “She’s talking to Bykoda.”

“Why didn’t she take you along?”

“She didn’t tell me.”

“Did she say when she’d be back?”

“No.”

“Any idea what it’s about?”

“No.” Klara’s beak twitched petulantly. “Nobody tells me nothing. A bird of my talents and I might as well be a blackboard.” She pointedly tucked her head back into her breast feathers, still muttering indistinctly.

Tevi grinned. The sarcastic ill-humor that Jemeryl had bestowed upon her familiar was not meant to be taken seriously, although Tevi suspected Jemeryl often used her alter ego to vent her own irritation.

The familiar was little more than an extension of the sorcerer’s own intellect. Jemeryl described the link as being so close that she was literally performing some of her own thinking in the magpie’s head. The practice was not without hazards. If anything happened to Klara, Jemeryl would also be at risk. Tevi assumed that the benefits of a familiar justified it. Magic, and the worlds that Jemeryl saw, were not something she could ever understand.

Tevi dumped her riding gear by the door and wandered across to the window. Apart from horse riding and reading, not much in the way of entertainment for the ungifted was available in Tirakhalod. Boredom had been yet another reason for joining the army. Tevi idly picked up a book that had been left on the window seat. She could read while waiting for Jemeryl to come back, or she could go and try a new skirmish on the battle table.

Tevi caught the corner of her lip between her teeth. She knew that Jemeryl was questioning just how much time she was spending on the battle table. But Jemeryl had other things to do, and the battle table was fun. Tevi’s expression changed to a grin as she headed back towards the door.

Was it not poxy bad luck that she would only start to enjoy herself in Tirakhalod when it was nearly time to leave? Yenneg was also a pleasant surprise. Previously she’d had little to do with him, but he was proving to be easygoing and considerate. He had even asked whether Jemeryl was showing signs of objecting to being left alone so much.

“Klara. I’m nipping over to Yenneg’s battle table. If Jem returns, tell her I won’t be long. I’ll be back before nightfall. I promise.”

“Would you like me to find a piece of chalk so you can write that on my back?”