“How does he wear it?”
“Long, straight, mostly tied back.”
“Anything like this?” Pered turned his sketch toward me and I smiled involuntarily.
“Are you sure you’re not a mage? Actually, his nose isn’t that prominent and his brows are finer but that’s a better likeness than many a portrait I’ve seen. You’re wasted in a copy-house.”
It was strange, seeing that picture, imperfect as it was, the face of a youth so alive in my dreams and reveries but so long lost on the far side of the pitiless ocean. I felt an odd tug of affection, almost. Besides, I owed the boy, didn’t I? He’d saved my stones against Kaeska’s enchanter.
“As my father said when he apprenticed me, it’s a fair trade and it keeps bread on the table,” grinned Pered. “I’ll turn my hand to proper portraiture when Shiv finally gets fed up with being ordered about by Planir and we find ourselves hurrying for the next ship to somewhere different. Until then I’ll bide my time and mix my inks.”
“Don’t you mind the way Shiv has to go running every time Planir tugs his leash?” I asked curiously.
“Yes,” said Pered simply, “but that’s Shiv’s choice and I have to respect that if we’re to be together. The trick is making sure Shiv himself comes out ahead when all the runes are drawn, whatever game the Archmage is playing. That’s what you need to do, trust me.”
This struck me as an unusually intense conversation to be having with someone I’d only just met. “You seem very well informed. Shiv must have told you more than you’re saying.”
Pered shook his head. “Not Shiv, Livak. Anyway, what you need to work out first is just what you want. Then make sure whatever Planir tries to talk you into works for you as well as for him. Watch your step if he’s being all honest and open with you as well—there’ll be a barb in the honeycake, mark my words.”
I heaved a sigh. “I just want to get clear of all this, have ordinary, nonsensical dreams about swimming through deep water with talking fish or whatever; to be allowed to go and pick up the threads of my own life again.”
“Then keep your eye on that target and don’t let Planir or anyone else distract your throw.” Pered raised a hand and stood up. “I think I heard the street door.”
We went into the kitchen, the inner door opened and Shiv came in, moving to one side to reveal Livak, who stepped directly into my arms, tucking her tousled auburn head under my chin. I breathed in the scent of her as I kissed her hair and felt her arms tighten around me. Holding her close like that was a feeling worth more than a season in Laio Shek’s embraces. I could have stayed like that for ever if Shiv hadn’t needed to reach the range to put the kettle on the heat.
“What’s for dinner, Shiv?” Livak peered into a basket full of vegetables that was standing on the scrubbed table-top.
It proved to be a sturdy pottage that had been simmering away in a cook-pot on a tripod in the hearth and only awaited the addition of the vegetables. Shiv skimmed the fat and thickened the mix with the marrow from the bones while the rest of us peeled and chopped.
I caught Livak looking thoughtfully at me and raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“Are you planning to keep the beard?” she asked with a faint smile.
“Do you like it?” I did hope she was going to say no.
She tilted her head to one side, considering this. “It definitely makes a difference but—”
That was good enough for me. “Shiv, do you have a razor I can borrow?”
Shiv laughed. “Certainly but I’d wait a bit before you use it. Shave a beard like that off in high summer, especially after spending time in the Archipelago, and you’ll have a piebald face. Your chin will catch the sun too, unless you’re careful. Trust me, I’ve done it!”
Pered’s artist’s imagination was instantly caught by this picture. “When did you wear a beard?” he asked, intrigued.
“Soon after I came to Hadrumal,” replied Shiv. “I thought it would make me look older and force some of the senior wizards to take me a bit more seriously.”
“Didn’t it work?” Livak asked with a wicked smile.
“No.” Shiv shook his head ruefully. “The only thing that impresses master mages is how you handle your element.”
In very little time we were sitting down to an extremely satisfying dinner. Whatever the mages might be doing, someone with more practical skills was raising very good beef on Hadrumal, and while I couldn’t identify the wine it was of a quality I associate with feasts and festival days. Best of all, we spent the entire meal talking about everything and anything and nothing to do with Planir, arcane dreams or lost colonies. It was almost as if my life were turning normal again.
As Shiv eventually rose to stack the plates in the sink, Pered looked out at the night. “You might as well stay, Livak. There’s no point in you heading back to the hall now and Halice will be asleep, if she’s anything like as tired as she was after the last session with those Solurans mauling her leg about. So, am I making up the bed in the garret as well or will the one in the back bedroom suffice?” he inquired with the first trace of archness I had seen in him.
I looked at Livak, who hid a smile in her wine goblet. “One bed will do, I wouldn’t want to put you to too much trouble.”
“You two can wash up then.” Shiv tossed me a dishcloth and he disappeared up the narrow stairs with Pered.
“You wash, I’ll wipe,” said Livak, taking firm possession of the towel.
“Thanks,” I replied dryly, before taking the kettle from the hearth to pour scalding water on to the crocks and blinking in the steam. “You and Pered seem to get on well.”
“We do,” agreed Livak. “Halice likes him as well.”
“How is she?” I asked belatedly.
“Better.” Livak’s nod was emphatic. “Much better.”
“Shiv was as good as his word then.” I was glad something positive seemed to be coming out of all this, for Halice’s sake as much as anything, though a part of me was also selfishly glad that Livak would be freed of that particular burden.
“By the time we arrived, he didn’t have a lot of choice,” laughed Livak, evidently well satisfied with something.
“How so?” I was intrigued, pausing in my work to look at her.
“Well, there was this archive Planir was desperate to have,” Livak began, her expression gleeful.
“From a shrine to Arimelin?”
“That’s right. Well, Lord Finvar, the old grayhair who had it, was absolutely dead set against giving it up. He’d got it into his addled head that wizards dealing in natural science is only one step away from Rationalism and he wasn’t about to hand over sacred texts to godless mages and risk who knows what wrath from an outraged deity.” Livak’s eyes gleamed wickedly.
“What changed his mind?” I was smiling myself now.
“There were a whole series of portents, strangely enough.” Livak shook her head in mock perplexity. “The old boy would wake up and find things in his bedchamber had been moved around while he slept. He kept finding an ancient set of runes laid out on his reading desk, up in his study, with something he was convinced was a mystical message. All his staff and retainers were questioned and, of course, the first people he suspected were Shiv and Viltred but the captain of his guard kept them under constant watch and they couldn’t possibly have been responsible.”
“Of course not.” I nodded solemnly. “So what finally convinced him?”
“Oh, waking to find his own birth runes laid out in the middle of the floor when he was sleeping in a high bedchamber with only one, inaccessible window.”