Aurian hesitated, suspicion written clearly on her face.
“My dear, I beg you.” Miathan forced tears into his eyes. “Don’t punish me for my hastiness. I would rather lose anything in the world than your good opinion. I swear by my very magic that I accept and respect your decision.”
“Thank you, Archmage.”
Though her reply was spoken calmly, the Archmage saw Aurian relax a little, and heard relief in her voice as she lowered her shields at last. But where she would once have come running to hug him, she remained where she was, with one hand on Forral’s arm. Miathan gritted his teeth against the surge of possessive desire that welled up in him. By the Gods, when he finally took her, this humiliation would be repaid a thousandfold ...
Once Aurian and Forral were safely away, the Archmage took out his fury in a blast of force that shook the tower to its foundations. He strode across the, smoking carpet, kicking the splintered furniture aside, and pressed a section of the blackened wall. A panel flew open with a click, revealing a hollow space. Miathan reached inside and took out a golden goblet, He sat by the window on the one undamaged chair, staring blindly out and caressing the rich, intricately chased metal. The cup was wide and shallow, with a slim golden stem and a broad, heavy base. It hummed with power—a power so ancient and so great that it brought the very air alive. Miathan smiled. Not all was lost—he had found this precious thing in the cave that Finbarr had discovered, and had stolen it secretly away before the others saw it. He knew what it was, and it changed everything.
In the dark years following the Cataclysm, most of the history and lore of the ancient Magefolk had been lost. All that remained of the shining Elder Age were vague, colorful legends, so corrupted by time that it was impossible to sift the truth from minstrels’ lays and old wives’ tales. One legend, however, Miathan now knew to be true. It spoke of the four great magical Weapons of the Elements—the Harp of Winds, the Staff of Earth, the Sword of Fire—and the Caldron of Rebirth. Although it now took the form of this golden chalice, Miathan was sure that he held a fragment, possibly refashioned to disguise it, of the Caldron, He was also certain that it held the Caldron’s power, and that, given time, he could learn to master it,
Miathan’s eyes burned. Let them wait, those who dared defy him! Aurian, Forral, Vannor—-and Anvar, that accursed abomination who had thwarted him when he’d been so close to his goal. Let them enjoy their petty victory for a while. Let Finbarr labor like a blind mole in his Archives, unwittingly providing his Archmage with the very information that he needed to bend the world to his will. Let Aurian copulate like an animal with that thrice-damned, rutting swordsman, blithely unaware of the fate in store for her . . .
Fear pierced Miathan’s heart like a sword of ice. How history repeated itself! He thought of Ria~so sweet, so compliant beneath him—and remembered his disgust when she had told him he was to be the father of a half-breed monster. What if it should happen again—to Aurian? The thought of her bearing Forral’s brat turned him sickjto the very core. But wait—what if the child, if child there were, should really be a monster? That would suit his ends, for such a creature could hardly possess magical powers,’and it would also punish Aurian and Forral for their perfidy.
Miarhan drew his power around him, and as he did so, he felt the chalice quiver in his hands. Choosing his words carefully, he summoned a deadly bane against any such babe, that it should take the form, not of the human that had fathered it, but of the first beast that Aurian set eyes on after she had given birth. As he spoke the curse, the grail flared with a brief, cold light and there was a noise like a thunderclap, far across the city.
Triumph swelled within the Archmage’s heart. So the thing retained its powers! It would take much study to learn how to wield it effectively, but in the end this weapon would give him mastery over the world—and over Aurian. After that, he would have all the long ages to make her pay for what she had done.
12
The Nightrunner
It was the day before Solstice Eve, but Vannor’s daughter Zanna was finding that seasonal goodwill was in short supply. She and Dulsina, the housekeeper, had been forced to make a special trip to the food markets of the Grand Arcade for Vannor’s cook, who had been in a terrible mood. It was Sara’s fault, of course. The meals for the festival required considerable planning in advance, and Hebba, who had cooked for the family for years, had her Solstice routine organized with immaculate timing, right down to the last delicious morsel. Her reaction, therefore, when Sara had decided the day before the Solstice celebrations were due to begin that it was time to make some changes, had been a mix of horror, outrage—and utter panic. Vannor was out, and his eldest daughter, Corielle, had recently wed the son of a wealthy sea captain, and moved to the port of Easthaven with her new husband. It had been left to Zanna, as usual, to deal with the trouble as best she could.
As Hebba would not trust the kitchen maids with the errand—(“What? Send them girls down there to dawdle and dally all day?”)—Dulsina and Zanna had been sent off with a long list of delicacies by the frantic cook, who was turning the kitchen upside down in her frenzy. Zanna was glad to escape— the two kitchen maids had already been in tears. She couldn’t blame poor Hebba, but Zanna resented the fact that the rest of the household, and herself in particular, had to bear the brunt of the cook’s temper, while Sara, as usual, had escaped the consequences of her thoughtlessness. While Hebba might call Sara “a little guttersnipe” behind her back, she was not prepared to cross the mistress of the house.
Because it was almost Solstice, the Grand Arcade was crowded to overflowing. At first, Zanna had enjoyed the bustle. The long, colonnaded aisles were brightly lie by endless lines of glowing Vamps, and the air was fragrant with the mingling aromas of spices, cheeses, smoked meats, and seasonal fruits. The stallholders were shouting to draw attention to the best of their wares, and people called out cheerful greetings to friends that they met in the crowd.
As time wore on, however, and the stocks of delicacies were depleted, folk became tired, cross, and despondent. The crowd seemed to be increasing all the time, and the building, for all its vast size, became unbearably stuffy and hot. Zanna, overburdened with purchases, felt sweaty and bedraggled. Her ribs were bruised where she had been elbowed by the thrusting crowds. Her feet had been trodden on repeatedly, and were sore from trudging the hard stone floors of the Arcade. Her head ached, she was desperately thirsty, and the tottering pile of packages in her aching arms was hampering her progress through the crush of people. Really, she decided, this is impossible! We’ve done enough, and if Sara wants anything more she can bloody well come and get it herself. She turned to say as much to Dulsina—and discovered, to her horror, that the housekeeper was nowhere in sight. I must have lost her in the crowd, she thought. Dear Gods, how will I ever find her again?
Zanna tried to stop, and was cursed by impatient folk who jostled her roughly aside. Because of her short stature, she couldn’t see a thing, and she was carried along helplessly, forced to move with the flow in order to stay on her feet. Zanna bit her lip, determined not to panic. I have to get out of here, she thought—but how?
“Ho, Zanna? Are you all alone?” A steadying hand grasped Zanna’s shoulder. A slight, but respectful space opened around her in the crowd, and to her relief, she found that she could breathe again. She looked up, with gratitude, into the kindly face of the Lady Aurian, who was -accompanied by Lieutenant Maya from the Garrison. “Gods, what a dreadful crush,” the Mage said cheerfully. “I’m not surprised you were struggling! Maya and I slipped down here to buy a gift for Forral, and we’ve been just about trampled to death!” Her arching brows twitched together in a slight frown. “Could Vannor not spare a servant to send with you?”