“You’re making a lot of fuss—” Laio began tremulously.
“No, pigeon, I’m not!” I caught her chin as she went to turn away and looked her straight in the eye. “I’ll take on any man you want in fair fight—Grival, Sezarre, the captain of the guard. I’ll trust my skills and take the runes as they fall. This is different; this is magic. And not just honest magic—air, earth, fire and water. This is enchantment that gets inside your own mind and turns it against you.” I laid a heavy hand on Laio’s head to emphasis the point and felt her quail beneath it. “I’ve had one of these bastards loose in my skull before. I’ve tried to fight it and I know that I can’t!”
“For this man to use magic would be to condemn himself and Kaeska—” Laio began, a tear trickling unheeded down one cheek.
“I’ll be dead before anyone notices!” I pulled my hands away and looked around the room. A pitcher of weak Aldabreshin wine stood on a side-table and I began to pour before abruptly heaving the jug at the wall. “I can’t even get a decent pissing drink in this shit-hole!”
The crash of the shattering pitcher shocked Laio into fullblown sobbing but it brought me to my senses, my rage as effectively in pieces as the earthenware jug. I shook my head; Laio was so very young, she couldn’t expect to play for the same stakes as Kaeska and win. I should have known that.
“Come on, stop crying.” I put a hand on Laio’s shuddering shoulder. She turned to fling herself against my chest, her tears hot through the thin silk of my undertunic.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “It seemed like such a good idea, such a good way to get rid of Kaeska. I thought Shek would be so pleased, it might make up for me not wanting a child just yet, I don’t want to do it, not just yet, not after yesterday, and I’ve got myself into such a mess with the cotton, but if Gar was to help, I could sort it out, as long as Kaeska wasn’t here to make trouble, and Nai is so lovely, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him or to Mahli and it would be all my fault, if I knew Kaeska was planning something and I didn’t do something to stop her—”
She choked as she ran out of breath and coughed on her tears. I sighed and gave her a hug, a little startled to feel her cling to me like a drowning kitten. “Hush, what’s done is done, after all.” I didn’t feel that sanguine, but if I was going to have any chance against the sorcerer I needed sleep, not to spend half the night soothing Laio’s hysterics. “Let’s just go to bed.”
Laio lifted her tear-stained face, a puzzled expression fleeting across her brow. “All right, if you want to.” Standing on tip-toe, she kissed me full on the lips, pressing herself against me. That met an instant reaction as my body received the message half a breath ahead of my wits. Before I could say anything to correct this misunderstanding, Laio twined her arms around the back of my neck to draw me closer, her mouth open and inviting. Abruptly I kissed her back, hard, a challenge in my lips and tongue, knowing this was almost certainly an inappropriate thing to be doing, but equally only too aware that I would be fighting for my life tomorrow, with a lame leg, against a sorcerer who would have me just where he wanted me. Laio evidently felt the shift in my weathervane and pressed her thigh into me, my scruples weakening as my ardor hardened. Dast take it, I could be dead by sunset tomorrow, and if the condemned man wasn’t going to get a hearty meal I’d take what was on offer. Sliding my hand down, I teased her breast through the fine silk of her dress and felt her nipple rise to my touch.
Things moved more quickly after that, neither of us stopping to think, just concentrating on losing ourselves in sensation. Laio knew some tricks that made me wonder just where Aldabreshi girls got their education once I had my breath back, but there was nothing of the practiced whore about her, just a frank and sensual delight in her body and mine. As a sexual experience, it was quite remarkable. Afterwards, a long while afterwards, as we lay in the rumpled chaos of the bed, the sweat drying slowly on our bodies. I pulled a quilt over us to keep out the chill and so we drifted off to sleep. Although Laio had been a unique delight, I smiled as I realized that despite everything my last thoughts were still of Livak.
The chamber of Planir the Great,
the island city of Hadrumal,
7th of For-Summer
“Don’t worry, I know exactly where Ryshad is. We have got everything in hand to rescue him.” Planir spoke confidently at Shiv’s image, tiny and gold-tinted in a polished steel mirror lit by a single candle flame. “How are you getting on?” The Archmage was in shirt sleeves, seated at a polished table in his paneled study, the evening sun sinking behind the towers of Hadrumal just visible through the tall lancets of the window next to him.
“I’m afraid Viltred is being difficult.” Exasperation was clear in Shiv’s muffled, tinny sounding voice. “All he wants is to get to Hadrumal as soon as possible; he doesn’t feel safe anywhere else, not after Ryshad disappeared like that.”
“Tell him not to worry about Ryshad,” Planir repeated himself, clenching a fist beneath the table where the spell would not be carrying his image to Shiv. “We need Viltred to persuade Lord Finvar to let us have the records of that shrine. I’m counting on the man having some respect for his old tutor; nothing else we’ve tried has succeeded thus far.”
“I can’t see Viltred inspiring respect in anyone just at present,” responded Shiv dourly. “He’s old and tired and running scared of everything from Elietimm to Eldritch-men. There must be someone else you can send.”
“Casuel? He’s on his way to Toremal, to help Esquire Camarl look for any material on this lost colony. Other than that, no, Shiv, I can’t send anyone just at present.” The undertone of authority in Planir’s voice forbade further argument.
“If Cas is the only alternative, I suppose Viltred will have to do.” Shiv scowled and leaned back in his chair, running both hands through his hair, a pause as he laced his hands behind his head eloquent of his frustration.
“Please just ask Viltred to do what he can, tell him it’s a special request from me to him, personally. I appreciate his situation and as soon as you have the archive, I’ll arrange a nexus of power for you to link to and translocate here directly.” Planir’s tone was warm and amiable but his fingers were drumming silently on his worn and faded breeches.
“I’ll do my best but Saedrin save me from nurse-maiding anymore senile old wizards,” sighed Shiv. “We’re in Claithe at the moment; we’ll be on the road as soon as we can get Livak’s horse shod. It’s no more than a couple of days to Lord Finvar’s fiefdom from here in good weather.”
“You’ve still got those women with you?” Planir frowned. “Why?”
“They’re not about to leave until they know what’s happened to Ryshad and seen for themselves that you’re doing everything you can to get him back.” Shiv’s image showed a tiny, rueful smile. “Would you believe Livak is actually offering to steal the books for us, if Lord Finvar really digs his heels in? That’s on the understanding the entire Council turns its talents to finding Ryshad though. We might have another advantage as well; Halice reckons she knows the captain of his guard from her mercenary days. We’ll get those records for you one way or another, Archmage.”
Planir shook his head with a grin. “I’m glad to see you’re showing a bit of initiative, Shiv. Mind you, only let Livak loose if there’s no other option. That one’s services come expensive, as I remember!”
Shiv laughed as the spell dissolved the image, and Planir snuffed the candle with an absent-minded word of command. The Archmage ran a hand over his face and rubbed the back of his neck with a muttered oath as a knock sounded on the oak of his door.