“Kel Ar’Ayen needs the mages of Hadrumal,” said Temar soberly. “If the Elietimm attack, we will need their magic to defend us.”
“And if Ice Island ships turn up on our shores, I’ll be the one calling loudest for Planir to blast them to splinters with whatever wizardry he likes,” the Emperor agreed. “What I will not tolerate is any mage believing he can trade on that expectation for influence in Toremal’s affairs. Wizards were a factor in the Chaos and I won’t have them stirring the pot while I tend the fire hereabouts. I suggest you make the same thing clear in Kellarin.”
“I think Hadrumal will be looking to its own affairs for some while,” Temar said with some sadness. “Cloud-Master Otrick, one of their senior mages, has finally died from the enchantment that struck him down last year.”
“I’d heard something of that.” The Emperor fell silent for a moment. “Still, that’s the Archmage’s concern. You and I have our separate realms to manage on either side of the ocean. Shall we do what we can to help each other?”
Temar looked into the Emperor’s eyes again and saw an appealing honesty. “Yes,” he said simply.
The Southern Docks, Toremal
35th of Aft-Summer in the Third Year of Tadriol the Provident
I’d been rehearsing what I might say to Livak for the best part of half a season but every word left me when I saw her standing on the gangplank of the ship. Dast save us, what had happened to her hair? When I’d last seen her, just after Winter Solstice, it had been long enough to her shoulders for my mother to hint at fond hopes of plaiting it for a summer wedding. Now it was cropped close to her head and the vivid red was tawny with mottled blonde.
She saw me and came running, the single satchel that was all she ever seemed to need slung over one shoulder. I caught her in my arms and held her tight, burying my face in her shoulder and wishing I need never let her go. Then her bag swung round and caught me under the ribs with a solid thump.
“What have you got in there — bricks?” I set her back on her feet. “And what in Dastennin’s name happened to your hair?”
She grinned up at me. “Remind me to let Shiv know he owes me a gold Mark.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Why?”
“He said the first thing you’d ask about was my hair. Anyway, hello to you.”
“Hello.” I stood there, grinning foolishly. “And what did happen to your hair?”
“I had to lighten it, to pass for Mountain-born,” she said carelessly. She laughed. “Do you recall, when we first met in Inglis we were talking about hair and disguises when we were both trying to track the Elietimm?”
“Are you trying to change the subject?” I teased her.
“What do you want to talk about?” she countered.
“How was the voyage?” I knew better than most just how much Livak hated ships.
“Not so bad,” she said shortly.
“It’s just that I wanted you with me as soon as possible.” I felt a little guilty about not suggesting she make the shorter crossing to Caladhria and come the rest of the way overland. I’d have waited.
She smiled again. “I wanted to be here. It was worth a little queasiness.”
I took her hand and we walked along the dockside. The rope walk was busy now, runners back and forth rigging yarn between the posts, ropemakers sweating as they wound handles to turn cogs and ratchets round and round, twisting the strands of hemp round each other and back against themselves so that one trying to unwind would tighten all the others and so hold it twisted in turn.
“After all those polite conversations relayed by wizards I’d have expected you to have more to say than this, now we’re finally alone.” Livak tilted her head on one side and looked quizzically at me.
I laughed. “I could hardly promise you endless delights behind the bed curtains with Casuel passing on every word.”
“He might have learned a few things,” she commented caustically.
“Or died of shock. So what did you learn over this summer?” If we were going to swap comparative successes, she might as well go first.
“Try this for weight.” She handed me her bag and I felt a solid weight in the bottom that could only be coin. “That’s what I finally managed to chisel out of that skinflint Planir.”
“So you brought back aetheric lore?” I reminded myself that it was a good thing one of us had managed to satisfy a patron. “From the Forest or the Mountains? Was that song book all you hoped it might be?”
“We brought back a Mountain girl adept in their form of Artifice,” Livak said with that same evasion that was starting to make me suspicious.
“How did you manage that?”
She shrugged. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later, over some wine.”
“So I’ve got something to take the edge off the shock?” I slung her bag over my shoulder.
“Something like that,” she admitted, slipping her arm round my waist. “How was your summer? Have you made yourself indispensable to Messire? I’ve got lots to tell him about that song book and I’ll expect him to pay up handsomely.” Livak halted, looking up with concern in her green eyes. “Casuel told Shiv you’d performed signal service to the Emperor or some such?”
“I suppose that’s one way of putting it. It’s certainly been an eventful Festival.” I hugged her round the shoulders and we started walking again.
“What about the Sieur?” Livak persisted. “How much further up that ladder have you climbed?”
I took an abrupt breath. “I saved his life, him and Camarl, when ruffians hired by an enemy tried to kill them both.”
Livak’s expression brightened. “That must be worth a fair few Crowns.”
“He paid handsomely,” I assured her. “And handed me my oath back along with the gold.”
Livak’s arm dropped away and she turned to me, vivid eyes searching my face for any hint of my feelings. “He dismissed you? After you saved his fat neck? How dare he?” Her indignation warmed me.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” I heard a rueful note in my voice. “I’d been helping Temar find those artefacts of his, looking out for D’Alsennin interests. The Sieur decided I’d find myself forced to choose between D’Alsennin and D’Olbriot and didn’t want me backed into that corner.”
Livak snorted with contempt. “That sounds like a flimsy excuse.”
“It’ll hold long enough for me,” I assured her.
She looked at me for a long, considering moment. “You’re not angry? Hurt? Insulted?”
“I was, all of those things,” I sighed, “but I’m mostly relieved. And the Sieur was right, in some ways. Accepting chosen status, when all I really wanted was a way of turning service to the House into some means of securing us a future together—that wasn’t true to my oath. I was looking out for myself, not committing myself to the Name, and that’s not entirely honest.”
“Not at all honest when the price of loyalty’s no more than a bed and a full belly for nine men out often,” Livak mocked. Her voice turned serious. “But you didn’t foul the nest? You’re still on fair terms with the Sieur? If we’re thrown on our own resources we’ll certainly need him to pay what he owes me and I’d rather he handed over the coin himself.”
“Or you’ll go in through an upper window some dark night and find yourself a suitable settlement?”
“Something like that.”
I returned her mischievous smile but we both knew it wasn’t a joke. “I imagine the Sieur will see the logic of paying you your due,” I said drily.
Livak slid her arm through mine and we walked a little further along the quayside, pausing to let laden dockers pass, looking at the waiting ships with idle curiosity. The harbour was so close packed that we could barely see the water, the peaceful sea churned into a sandy green and dotted with flotsam.
“If we’re not taking the Sieur’s coin for the next few years, what are we going to do?” Livak gnawed her lower lip but she didn’t seem overly distressed at the prospect of freedom. “Is Charoleia still in town? She always knows how to double a Crown in no time.”