“When will you tell Gar?”
Laio turned her gaze on me, irritated. “I will not tell Gar. You will tell Sezarre, who will tell her, so that she can come to us of her own accord and make it clear she is acting on her own suspicions and behaving as a good wife.”
I should have seen that coming. “All right. The thing is, that man, the Elietimm priest, he wants Kaeska to make a trade to get me as her body slave. He’s dangerous and if you want me alive and with enough of a grip on my wits to give evidence, you had better not delay too long.”
“What does he want of you?” Laio frowned, then laughed like a greenjay. “Perhaps Kaeska wants you to father this child of hers!”
That notion rocked me back on my heels; could the vision really have been Kaeska’s child after all? I shook my head firmly. No, the Elietimm wanted the sword, he had made that clear enough.
Laio wiped happy tears from her eyes. “So, what does this man want of you?”
I took my time chewing a mouthful of fruit before answering. Telling Laio that this man wanted to possess an enchanted sword, somehow mystically linked to me, probably in order to frustrate the magical plans of the wizards of Hadrumal, now sounded like a very bad idea.
“I imagine he knows that I can expose him, tell you all how barren his islands are, how little he has to trade.”
Luckily Laio was still so full of the notion of getting rid of Kaeska that she let this rather meager explanation slide past her. I realized that the Aldabreshin obsession with trade would make this sound perfectly reasonable to her, as would the notion that all the Ice Islander sought was an entry to commerce with the Archipelago.
A knock on the inner door startled us both and I scrambled to my feet to answer it. Grival stood on the threshold, looking more agitated than I could recall seeing him.
“The child, it comes.” He managed a rather forced smile. “Mahli wants you with her, my lady.”
“Tell her I’m on my way.” Laio ran her hands through her hair and tied it back all anyhow with a convenient scarf. She turned to me on her way out. “Keep yourself out of mischief and I think you might like to have that conversation with Sezarre today.”
I bowed low and watched her run lightly down the corridor, Grival striding purposefully beside her.
Chapter Seven
A letter written by the Archmage Holarin of Imat River in
the 3rd year of Emperor Aleonne the Valiant,
(original held in the Archive of the Archmage,
Trydek’s Library, Hadrumal).
Dear Dretten,
I note with interest your news of increased Relshazri trade with the Islanders from the Aldabreshin Archipelago. Now that you are living in the city, it is important that you understand somewhat of the basis of their hostility to magic, if only for your own protection. Most will tell you this antipathy stems simply from blind prejudice; this may be true in some cases but the origins of such a prevalent bias go much deeper. I will attempt to explain, given the limits of our present knowledge.
Although the Aldabreshi do not worship the gods as we do, it is a mistake to dismiss them as unthinking barbarians. The complex philosophies of the Archipelago are spun from their observations of the natural world, the behavior of animals, the seasons of flower and fruit, the shifting patterns of the stars and moons. More than this, the Aldabreshi believe in a wide range of unseen forces at work in the world about them. They have no concept of the Otherworld, rather believing that the essence, the spirit of a dead person, remains an intangible part of their household, their family. Do not mistake my meaning; they do not worship their ancestors like the barbarians of the far West, but see both the deceased and the still unborn as continuously linked to the living. Imagine, if you will, a tree felled by a storm later sending up a shoot that blossoms, death, growth and the prospect of new life all contained within the one plant.
The Aldabreshi believe that all things, material and intangible, seen and unseen, are linked and interdependent, hence their many and varied methods of divination, practiced freely by all levels of their society. A Warlord will quite literally hold or commit his forces to battle depending on his interpretation of the flight of a flock of birds. His prospects when hoping to take a wife will stand or fall on the movement of precious stones placed on a hot sheet of metal. Aldabreshin astronomy has reached heights of sophistication that we can only envy; they believe actions at a time of eclipse can benefit an individual enormously or, conversely, promote an enemy’s ruin. Day-to-day life is influenced in countless minor ways by the most trivial events, while major events such as eruptions or tempests can lead to warfare, reconciliation or some other entirely unexpected conclusion. There seem to be few fixed rules; if there are, we have yet to discover them.
Putting such store in random events may seem whimsical and even futile to ourselves, with our generations of more sophisticated learning and debate, but that is not my point. This principle of belief is central to Aldabreshin life and holds the key to their hatred of magic. To see the elements that make up all living matter deliberately manipulated and altered by a wizard is at once obscene and supremely menacing in their eyes. Magic is a chaotic, destructive force; it is inconceivable that it could be used for good. Whatever temporary advantage might accrue would be as nothing compared to the damage done. One might just as well set light to the corner of a tapestry in an attempt to illuminate the whole.
You will understand therefore, when I advise you to steer well clear of Aldabreshi traders. Their hostility will remain implacable and any attempt to win them over will only place you in peril. Remember the foul torments reserved for those convicted of practicing magic in the islands of Archipelago.
The Palace of Shek Kul,
the Aldabreshin Archipelago,
6th of For-Summer
I looked at the mess that Laio invariably managed to create and hurried through a perfunctory tidy-up, not about to waste the only chance I’d had so far of exploring the compound on my own. Strapping on my sword in case the Ice Islander came snooping, I left my armor rolled in its corner. Wearing it without being in attendance on Laio would simply make me too noticeable. Walking briskly down the stairs, head high and confident, I nodded to the pages who were bent over some incomprehensible game of colored stones in their little vestibule.
Once outside, I walked purposefully in the direction of the main gate, racking my brains for some excuse to give at the gate that might get me down to see what else the foreshore might offer as a means of escape. I might have a chance if some of the younger guards were on duty, all cocksure arrogance in freshly burnished chainmail, the type I remembered only too well from my days training Messire’s militia levies. Would there be any possibility of stowing away on a galley from another domain? What good would it do me if I could?
The path turned a corner around a glossy tree whose razor edged leaves I had learned to respect and I took a hasty step backward into its cover as Kaeska Shek entered the compound. She was plainly dressed in white cotton, a long scarf worn up over her head, which she hastily removed as she entered. Pausing to look behind her before she crossed the threshold, she said no word to the guards as they opened and closed the tall black gates for her. Her hands were clasped at her midriff, holding something close.
“And where have you been, my lady, while Mahli’s laid up in child-bed?” I wondered.
I looked at the gate guards; a trio of hard-faced men a handful of years older than myself with a generation more experience of guile and deception, if Laio was any guide to life in the Archipelago. Abandoning any hope of getting outside the compound, I listened to the soft sounds of Kaeska’s stealthy steps on the stony path instead. The more evidence I could get against the woman, the safer I would be. I took a path between dense stands of a ubiquitous berry-plant that thrived on the rich black soil, its dark leaves providing excellent cover. Advancing slowly, I saw Kaeska’s bright hair through the foliage and after a moment’s thought realized she was sitting on the stone edge of a fountain basin where a motley collection of fish lived their lives in aimless circles.