Jehenna shook her head and then seemed to realize something and looked around. “Where is Master Trisfelt? I thought he and his students came in just before the wards went up?”
Lenamare nodded. “He did, but I sent him back outside to be our eyes and ears out there.”
“Elrose,” Lenamare turned to look at the other master, “I took over the keystone position for the wards this morning from Trevin. I can have them tuned to let you teleport out and back in to resupply Trisfelt. He may have a longer tour of duty ahead of him.”
“Longer?” Jehenna asked.
“More than ever, we need an observer outside that we can trust. If any avatars show up, I want advance warning.” Lenamare finished his brandy. “I have the wards set to allow telemirrors, and he still has his. Therefore, Elrose, coordinate a location and what supplies he needs and I’ll open the wards to let you out and back in. I only want to have them open for a few minutes at most.”
Elrose nodded. “Sounds wise. I am pretty sure I know what he’s going to need. I’ll go tap a few wine kegs.” Elrose and Hortwell chuckled, and even Jehenna made a small grin. At this point, any amount of levity helped.
“This is most distressing!” Randolf whined to his two lords as they walked back to the archimage’s chambers.
“It is, My Lord, most certainly,” Lord Rothgart agreed.
“Indubitably, my illustrious lord,” Bartholomew agreed, adding extra color to his words to make up for answering second.
As they reached the doors to his chambers, Randolf stepped aside to let his lord chamberlain go forward and open the doors for him. Once opened, he slunk through the entranceway as was his habit. Randolf could tell by the sour expression on Bartholomew’s face as the man looked into the suite that Crispin must have returned and was most likely draping himself over a divan in the parlor.
As Rothgart shut the door behind them, Randolf marched through the rear doors of the entrance hall into the parlor, where Crispin was indeed lying on the gold divan. As was his custom, the boy was scantily clad and provocatively posed to arouse maximum discomfort in the two lords. Randolf stopped in the middle of the room, standing up straight and holding his arms out from his sides to allow the lord chamberlain to remove his robe. The chamberlain snapped his fingers and two young men in livery emerged from the sides of the entry hall and flowed into the parlor to remove the Archimage’s robes.
Randolf coughed slightly. Bartholomew raised his eyebrows in sudden understanding of the oversight. Clearly, the crystal ball playback had rattled his wits. The lord chamberlain produced a mint chocolate and placed it in Randolf’s mouth, which opened as the chamberlain’s fingers approached.
Randolf savored the mint as the two valets removed and folded his robe and then removed his boots and replaced them with slippers. A rather tricky feat, considering that the Archimage insisted on remaining standing. Randolf appeared to be contemplating as he savored the mint.
“As I was saying,” Randolf suddenly continued as the valets backed away and began to leave. “This is most distressing. The fact that Exador would so depart without telling me, on a flying carpet no less, and with a bunch of hooligans.” Randolf began pacing. “And to think he gave me no word of his departure before leaving, I am summoned to this council meeting, which he knows I hate attending, and I have to make excuses for his absence — off the cuff, even!” Randolf continued pacing silently.
The two lords looked back and forth at each other. Finally Rothgart spoke up. “My Lord?”
Randolf paused and looked at the lord chancellor, raising an eyebrow, awaiting the chancellor’s question. “Are you not at all concerned with the fact that he was seen on the carpet with two archdemons?” Rothgart asked.
“And that the Council now suspects, nay, believes Exador to be an archdemon?” Bartholomew asked.
Randolf stopped where he was, his face going slightly pale. “Hmm, interesting point. I hadn’t considered that in great detail.” He tilted his head from side to side, then glanced at Crispin, who was smiling brightly. “Yes, this is most awkward. I mean, it would look bad to have an archdemon in one’s employ, yes?”
The two lords gave the archimage slightly horrified stares. “My Lord, I think that may be the least of our problems?”
Randolf seemed puzzled. “Well, what? You think he would do us harm? I’ve known Exador since I was a child, just as my father knew his father. They’ve served us loyally for over a hundred years! If he meant any harm to us, don’t you think we’d know it by now?”
The two lords were looking extremely pale. “I’m not sure, My Lord; I’m not an expert on the machinations of demon lords,” Rothgart replied. “However, I am not sure I would trust one.”
Randolf tried to smile, but the smile broke down and he grabbed himself. “I know, I know! But what choice do we have? Are you willing to call him out on it?” He looked around worriedly. “I know I certainly don’t want to walk up to someone who might be an archdemon and tell them that they’ve been lying to me!” He raised his hands up and out. “You know the man! He was scary enough when we thought he was a human!” Randolf shook his head and began pacing. “I think we have no choice. I have no choice! I must continue as if nothing has changed! If he returns, we pretend nothing has changed, that we do not suspect him, or anything! Am I clear?” He glared at his two lords; both of whom gulped and nodded.
“And furthermore, spread the word that I, the archimage, do not believe such scurrilous lies and have the utmost confidence in Lord Exador!” Randolf nodded at the two lords, trying to get them to nod back.
“Yes, Milord,” Rothgart and Bartholomew murmured.
“Also, he’s got an army camped in the basement somewhere. Locate his generals and make sure they have whatever they need now that Exador has gone missing. Technically, they march under the banner of Turelane, so I probably need to keep them fed.”
He paused and added, “Oh, and don’t bring the archdemon thing up, unless you hear people grumbling, or whatever. We don’t want to make them nervous if they haven’t heard anything!”
Chapter 83
Saint Hilda of Rivenrock trudged through the brambles in the dark, in the middle of the night, scanning the terrain for any demonic manifestations. It was quite tedious. If only she had not been so diligent, she could be home enjoying a good book and a fine glass of wine this evening.
This morning one of her illuminaries had suddenly gone dark and then, not long after, had started drawing mana at a rather large rate for several minutes before dropping to a very dark level. A single illuminary might not have been noticed by some of the more famous avatars; but frankly, Hilda didn’t have a huge number of illuminaries, so she was sensitive to each one.
She had reported it to her supervising archon, who probably would have ignored it, except that another avatar reported a similar experience shortly thereafter. Both were identified to be in the same area, and after a few more enquiries to avatars with illuminaries in the area, it was learned there was a total of five illuminaries in the same state in Astlan, all in close physical proximity and all stationed with most of the Rod. All currently dark.
Clearly, something had happened. Unfortunately, the bureaucratic nature of these things slowed down their ability to synthesize all the relevant information. Thus it wasn’t until late in the evening, relative time for Hilda, that she’d been notified that she was to join the advance team to do the ground work preparation for a Visitation from the archon currently overseeing this project. She had been chosen, as one of her illuminaries had been affected and she had been the first to report the problem. Joy.