The road curled away across a broad, shallow plain, great halls of the soft gray stone standing four-square at intervals along it, long and lofty roofs rising above quadrangles of lesser buildings, in each case the whole surrounded by purposeful walls, towers at their corners looking out and around like careful sentries. The overriding impression that Hadrumal gave was of watching and waiting; the tall buildings seemed to loom above me as I came closer. The sun emerged from behind a cloud and, in a sudden alchemy, the stone glowed gold and inviting for a moment, glazed windows shining like jewels. The moment passed and I could see where smaller houses, workshops, stores and the like had filled in the gaps between the forbidding, implacable fortresses of arcane learning. There was no wall around the city as a whole to protect these lesser folk, I noted; what was there to defend them in time of danger? The arts of the wizards, presumably and I wondered how sure a protection that might be.
I slowed my pace unconsciously, finding myself falling further behind Shiv, who had to stand and wait, his expression startled when he turned to find himself so far outstripping me. I took my time catching him up, wiping sweat from my forehead and swapping my kit-bag to my other shoulder. The street was busy; men and women of all ages and styles of dress walking this way and that, their only common feature an air of self-absorption and an unconscious arrogance in their carriage.
“This way.” Shiv led me through an archway of ancient stonework and across a flagstoned court where my sandals scuffed uneasily on the hollowed stones. Pushing open a door, Shiv ran lightly up the flights of dark oak stairs, eagerness in his every move. I followed slowly, deliberately placing each step on the polished boards, trying to decide what I was going to say to this Archmage of Shiv’s.
“Ryshad Tathel, how pleased I am to see you again.” Planir had been seated, poring over a leather-bound book when Shiv pushed open the heavy door without any particular request for admittance and he sprang to his feet, hand outstretched in welcome.
I nodded an acknowledgment. Planir looked much the same as when we’d met before; tall, dark, fine-featured and at first sight younger than you eventually realized he must be. His eyes were as opaque as ever, his schemes and motives as hidden as the far side of the lesser moon. He was plainly dressed in an indeterminate style, neither Tormalin or Soluran, neither overtly rich or incongruously commonplace. I was not impressed, having seen various noblemen try the tactic of putting the soldiery at ease by dressing down to them. Most fail with it.
“I was most concerned when I learned what had befallen you, but everyone assured me that if anyone could rise above such challenging circumstances, you were the man to do it.” Planir smiled broadly at me and gestured toward an elegant array of crystal and decanters. “Can I offer you any refreshment.”
I was tempted to ask for ale, just to see his reaction. “No, thank you.” He could keep his flattery as well.
“Please, be seated.” Planir took his own chair again and leaned forward on one arm, a friendly smile on his face. “You’ve done sound work, there, Ryshad. We weren’t even sure if there was an Elietimm threat in Aldabreshi, though we had our suspicions, given the information you helped recover last year. We have good reason to be grateful to you again, have we not? As soon as we realize the Elietimm are worming their way in, before we’ve even begun to form a plan to counter them, you discredit the bastards in a storm of scandal that will carry from one end of the Archipelago to the other before Solstice. Saedrin will lose his keys before they secure any base or alliance among the Aldabreshi now!”
“It was all entirely accidental.” I took a seat, but only because my bag was weighing heavy on my shoulder. “Incidental to keeping myself alive, since I had no illusions that anyone would be helping me out of there.”
Planir leaned back in his chair, his smile vanishing. “I can understand that you might feel abandoned,” he said seriously, “but that was by no means the case. Dev is far from my only agent in the islands.”
I didn’t respond, unconcerned whether he took the contempt in my face for Dev personally or not.
“Right then, let’s hear your tale,” Planir said briskly, rising to his feet and striding to a table set under the tall windows looking out across the towers of Hadrumal.
“I was sold in Relshaz, made slave to a Warlord’s lady and found I had to denounce another in order to save my own skin.” I folded my arms and waited for the Archmage’s reaction, ignoring Shiv who was frowning at me as he leaned on the mantel above the fire less hearth.
“There’s much more to it than that and you know it, man!” Planir folded his arms and abandoned his attempts at flattery, which was one relief. “We suspect the Elietimm were responsible both for your enslavement and for your purchase by Shek Kul’s women. It’s the sword, Ryshad. We thought it would be important and the degree of sympathy you’ve established with it is beyond anything else we’ve seen. Even without that, the Elietimm have betrayed its importance. They wanted that sword so desperately that they broke cover and exposed themselves completely.”
I was not at all convinced of that, rather suspecting that young D’Alsennin had been somehow roused in Relshaz, the Elietimm only taking advantage of the situation. These wizards were looking to do much the same, weren’t they? “So I was the goat tethered to draw the wolves out of the wildwood?”
“Not intentionally, but I’ll grant you the effect was the same.” Planir nodded, unperturbed. “Now we need to know just why they were prepared to run such risks to get their hands on that blade.”
“You want the sword, it’s yours.” I shrugged again. Messire wouldn’t take offense, not when he heard my side of this sorry tale. “You can find someone else to dream D’Alsennin’s dreams for you.”
Planir shook his head with a half-smile. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, Ryshad. Once a sympathy has been established there is no going back, no handing it on. No one else will be able to hear the echoes of D’Alsennin’s life but you, not if we pass the sword around every man in the cohorts.”
I looked at him, stony-faced.
“Nor will disposing of the sword relieve you of his presence in your sleeping mind,” continued Planir. “As I say, this can be no more undone than an egg can be unbroken.”
I shot Shiv a grim glance that promised a reckoning between us and he colored, looking down at his notes.
“So, we can all move on and learn what we may from this.” Planir broke the tense silence. “What have you learned about the man who owned the blade, what can you tell us about the colony and its fate?”
“Very little.” I shrugged, keeping my face expressionless.
Planir leafed through a handful of documents to find a sealed letter, which he handed to me without further word. I set my jaw as I recognized the imprint and scribe of Messire D’Olbriot on the outer surface. Cracking the wax, I was surprised to find only a handful of lines in Messire’s own, unpracticed hand:
Dastennin send that you receive this, Ryshad, that you have come safely out of the perils of the Archipelago. I do not pretend to understand all that I have been told about lost magics and mysteries hidden in dreams but know this; the Men of the Ice are enemies, to my House and to our Empire. This is a peril we cannot counter with swords or the strength of our arms and resolve. The Archmage is our best hope of defense at present and I charge you, on the oath that binds us, to tell him all you can and to spend all your efforts in his service, even to the hazard of your life. You are sworn to my service and so I command you.