The same went for Vannor’s daughter. The Mage’s supper lost all its savor as she remembered how the little bitch had infiltrated the Academy in the guise of a maidservant and succeeded in worming her way into the position of Eliseth’s personal maid. No one had ever been able to work out just how Zanna had managed to rescue her father and then vanish with him so effectively, but since the girl had been Eliseth’s servant, Miathan had always blamed the Weather-Mage for the escape—completely overlooking the fact that he had been the one who’d entrusted the girl with the prisoner’s care.
Her stomach churning with anger at the thought of Zanna, Eliseth pushed her plate of roast fowl aside. “Do you know what became of Vannor’s daughter?” she asked Bern, trying to keep the sharpness from her voice.
Bern shook his head. “She married. Lady, I think.” He shrugged. “I don’t know where she’s living now—it’s not in Nexis, though. I think she stayed away for safety’s sake when the Phaerie started raiding. She comes to visit her father from time to time and brings her children.”
The Magewoman sighed. Ah well—there’d be time enough to discover the whereabouts of Zanna. First of all she would concentrate on the girl’s father, the self-styled Lord of Nexis, and she had no idea, yet, how she would take her revenge on him. Then something that Bern had said broke through her thoughts of revenge to come into the forefront of her mind. “What did you say about the Phaerie?” she demanded.
Eliseth listened with dismay as he told her the sorry tale. In the turmoil of events that were taking place around her when she’d been snatched from the world, she had forgotten about the Forest Lord and his subjects. But it seemed that, in the absence of the Magefolk, the accursed Phaerie had been getting out of hand. In the first three or four years of his reign, Vannor had had endless trouble from the skyborne raiders. On the nights when the moon was bright and the north wind rode the skies, the citizens of Nexis and the surrounding countryside had soon learned to lock up their livestock and bar and bolt their doors when the Phaerie, on their powerful great horses that trod the air, came hurtling down from the skies. At first, only strong men were taken, but later specific craftsmen began to vanish—masons, tilers, builders, carpenters, and smiths. All were borne northward, too fast to be followed, never to return.
Later, farmers and shepherds also began to vanish—always those from the bleakest holdings, who knew how to get the best from the tough vegetation and thin soil of the upland farms. A different pattern was emerging here, however.—The farms were discovered abandoned, with entire families gone, and the bams and fields stripped bare of livestock, implements and crops alike. Vannor, Eliseth was maliciously pleased to hear, had almost driven himself demented trying to get to the bottom of the mysterious abductions, but he had failed to discover the reason behind them, as abjectly as he had failed to put a stop to them. Soon farms were being deserted for another reason, as many of the outlying families fled their land to seek sanctuary with relatives who lived in the city.
Not that Nexis was really any safer. The Phaerie struck when they pleased, and snatched whosoever they wanted. Young girls were often abducted now, and sometimes even children. Women were being snatched away from home and family to suffer who knew what fate. Spinners and weavers were being targeted, as were seamstresses and lacemakers—not to mention bakers, brewers, and the members of the oldest profession of all. The Garrison seemed to be helpless—after so many failures to keep matters under control the commander had given up, and was occupied instead in drinking himself into an early grave. Though Nexis had prospered, by and large, under Vannor’s rule, there could be no true peace or prosperity until the problem of the Phaerie had been dealt with once and for all.
Bern was a frightened man, that much was plain, thought Eliseth. He had escaped the Phaerie once, that day long ago in the Vale, by plunging into the lake and hiding beneath the overhanging bushes at the water’s edge until they were safely gone before creeping away and finding one of the loose mercenary horses to make his way home. He had never forgotten, however, the horror of their attack when they had slain Eliseth’s force of hired soldiers to the last man. He had fortified the bakery as well as he could, but still lived in fear that one night he, too, might be seized—and what if the Phaerie took his family?
It was all the same to Eliseth if they did—save that Bern himself might prove useful to her in the days to come. The Mage was more preoccupied with the threat that the Phaerie posed to her plans. She intended to take up the reins of power in Nexis, and it might prove difficult if the blasted Phaerie were still rampaging through the city. On the other hand, if she could get rid of them she would win the admiration and respect of the populace. She wouldn’t have to lift a finger to oust Vannor—the stupid Nexians would be begging her to rule them. Scarcely listening to Bern’s ceaseless tirade of whining complaints, she continued to make her plans as she pulled the apple pie toward her and began to eat.
Eliseth’s eyes flew open wide with shock as the first pain lanced through her innards. As she toppled from her chair, clutching at her stomach, she could already feel the poison seeping into her blood like an insidious black tide.—She clawed at her throat as she thrashed helplessly on the carpet, choking on a corrosive mixture of bile and gore.
There were only seconds remaining in which to save herself. Thrusting back her panic and striving her utmost to ignore the pain, Eliseth turned her will inward, to slow her laboring heart. She reached, as though with invisible fingers, into her veins, to break down the deadly poison into its harmless constituents that could be flushed out of her system.
Gradually, the agony and distress diminished. To her utter relief, the Mage felt the rhythms and functions of her body returning to normal. The receding waves of pain washed her back to the shores of consciousness. Feeling weak, nauseated, and dizzy, aching dully as though she had been beaten both inside and out, Eliseth opened her eyes.
Where was Bern? Where was that two-faced, sneaking, back-slabbing lump of Mortal offal? Behind her, the Magewoman heard the soft snick and creak of the door being opened. Having discovered that she was about to survive his craven attack after all, the treacherous bastard was making a hasty escape.
“No!” Eliseth snarled, as she rolled over. She had had enough of Mortals slipping from her clutches. There was time for a fleeting glimpse of the terror in Bern’s eyes—then a bolt of sizzling lightning left her hand in a swift, fluent motion. The baker’s body crumpled, smoking, to the floor.—Cursing horribly, the Mage grabbed the edge of the table and pulled herself upright. A swift gulp of wine from the flask on the table helped to restore her. When she had steadied herself a little, she staggered across the room to the baker and looked down at his smoldering corpse with a frown, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the stench of charred flesh. “Damn the sniveling little rat to perdition—I would never have thought he’d have the nerve,” she muttered to herself. All the same, now that the first fierce blast of her anger had dissipated, she began to regret killing him so quickly. She’d had plans for Bern and his family—and now he was useless to her. And she’d have to kill the wife and children, too, or the news of her return would be all over Nexis in no time, putting Vannor immediately on his guard. Eliseth cursed again. Bloody Mortals! It was all very inconvenient.