“I’m going back to Palanthas to hire mercenaries,” Dumas said. “And if our renegades aren’t in that camp, then someone down there knows where they are.” With that, she patted Hort on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in a few days. Don’t lose them.”
He scowled and nodded curtly. He didn’t like that one bit, but after what the three renegades did to Thoma, Hort wasn’t going to question his companion anymore, no matter how strangely she acted. He wanted the renegades to pay. Even if it meant following the camp of mystic refugees down the funnel of the Blood Sea of Istar, he would avenge Thoma’s death.
CHAPTER 15
While it was Highmage Astathan who served as master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth, his position was largely ceremonial by choice. He watched over the affairs of the Wizards of High Sorcery, which more than occupied him, and left it to others to run the daily matters of the tower. Ladonna’s mentor, Arianna, possessed the enviable and much coveted role of managing the tower’s library, perhaps the greatest known repository of magic, arcane lore, and artifacts anywhere in the world.
As such, the tower was open to all wizards with sanction to be there, as well as a cadre of assistants and librarians who cared for the monumental library and maintained the tower grounds. It was those assistants who first came to investigate the commotion in the courtyard, but it was Arianna who welcomed them back.
Arianna, a woman in her forties with short-cropped brown hair and rounded features, took Ladonna into her embrace, but the kisses the two women placed on each other’s cheeks seemed cold and distant. Once they might have been mentor and student, but that was no longer the case. They were fast growing into rivals.
To her credit, however, Arianna made sure baths were drawn and chambers afforded the sojourners while Highmage Astathan was roused from sleep. He’d been awaiting their return. Before Arianna parted company with them, however, she pulled Tythonnia aside.
“You should know,” Arianna whispered, “Yasmine of the Delving died. Belize has replaced her as master of your order. He’s at Abrasama Keep but expects a full report when you are finished with Highmage Astathan. I’ll arrange for your communications.”
Tythonnia nodded. She felt too numb, too tired to care. It was inevitable that Belize would head the order; Tythonnia had just hoped she wouldn’t be around to see it. Ladonna and Par-Salian said nothing either. They regarded one another with looks of utter exhaustion. Their shared ordeal would forever bind them regardless of what came next.
Before Tythonnia entered through the wooden door to her chamber, she pulled out one of the books from her worn pack, Forgotten Tongues, and handed it to Par-Salian. Par-Salian nodded in gratitude, but Ladonna continued scowling. They retired to their chambers without another word.
Tythonnia stretched and stifled a groan. The hot bathwater soaked through her, numbing her muscles and edging her toward exhausted sleep. There was still much to do, but until the water grew cold or black with filth, she would stay here.
As she luxuriated in its steaming warmth, she examined the bone-lace key that Berthal had given her. She turned it end over end and marveled at its delicate design. He’d been loath to part with the three books stolen from the Black Robes, but what the key promised to unlock was of far greater value. Tythonnia had happily offered her help and was grateful when he told her he knew about them and their mission. That thrust everything out into the open, and Tythonnia couldn’t wait until she was reunited again with the renegades. She tired of the duplicity, but slowly, she was ridding herself of the lies.
The next two days were spent in a blur of activity. Tythonnia, Ladonna, and Par-Salian, with barely a word to one another, spoke to Highmage Astathan together then each in private. They related their journey, including their encounter with the animated dolls and the flight through the High Clerist’s Tower. They told him everything they knew about the renegade hunters, about the attack at the tower and again in Palanthas and about the murder of Thoma at the hands of Dumas. That troubled Astathan deeply. He promised to speak with the other masters about the attacks, but as of that moment, he had no choice but to send out more hunters to bring Hort and Dumas back for questioning.
Unfortunately, he could not address the incident with Dumas directly until he’d cleared up other matters first. In particular, he had to mend fences with Palanthas following the debacle with the Thieves Guild and the fire in Smiths’ Alley. The Wizards of High Sorcery were also dispatching scouts from Palanthas to track Berthal’s camp.
Afterward, the three companions made their reports to the masters of the orders. Ladonna reported to Reginald Diremore through a scrying crystal in Arianna’s study. He didn’t hide his displeasure when she told him about securing one book only and was about to dismiss her for having performed “barely well enough to remain in the order” when she interrupted him. It was a moment of panic, of seeing her hard-earned position slip away. She couldn’t allow that to happen.
“I seduced Par-Salian,” she said. Immediately, the words sank down into the pit of her stomach, and she almost burned with shame.
I don’t care for him that way, she thought. I don’t-I mean …
Reginald cocked an eyebrow in intrigue, but Ladonna wasn’t about to let him steal her moment.
“I have his ear. Me … nobody else,” Ladonna said. “If you want me to influence him in the future, I suggest we discuss what the order can offer me in exchange for that influence.”
That brought a smirk to Reginald’s face. That was twice she’d backed him into a corner and twice he was smart enough to know when he was beaten. He would discuss it later with her, he said, as he studied her under his black eye, but her future was more promising than it had been a few minutes earlier.
Ladonna continued staring absently at the scrying crystal long after it had gone dark.
Par-Salian performed exactly as was expected of him, which was to say he met with the highmage’s lofty expectations. He had kept the group together, survived several brushes with death, he was able to give them the position of Berthal’s camp, and he had returned everyone home safely. But it was obvious Par-Salian didn’t consider the mission successful. They had located Berthal but were in no position to capture him. The group almost shattered apart on several occasions. Indeed, they had almost died and Par-Salian’s sympathies for the enemy forced him to question himself.
Highmage Astathan listened, never nodding or shaking his head, never smiling nor frowning. He listened while Par-Salian confessed to those terrible things, and only when the younger man was done did Astathan speak.
“Never apologize for the hardships you face. Never apologize for questioning. The test we take is but one of many life throws our way. What matters is weathering it intact, regardless of the scars you earn from the experience. What matters is having the strength to ask the questions and to face the answers with a straight back. You did both. Par-Salian, I am proud of you. I may not have been your Shalafi, but I am as proud of you as I am of any of my students. You will make a fine addition to the conclave.”
“But I questioned my own loyalties. I questioned the test.”
“As well you should,” Astathan said. “The test is a choice, and all choices demand examination. You were not forced into it. You took it willingly, as a show of devotion. But you took it knowing what to expect. That was a choice, to take the test to show others you earned the right to learn the secrets of the greater arcane. Berthal is smart and compassionate, but his demand to rid us of the test is the cry of an over-protective mother. Nobody learns by being sheltered their entire life. Nobody respects something if it’s given to them without struggle. Rarely has a great thing been given away. It’s always been earned. And you, my boy … you earned your place here today. You should be proud.”