Rexei shivered at the not-quite-mocking way he said that. She didn’t know much about magic, but she did know a little bit about blood magic, thanks to the instruction she had received in the outermost circle of the Vortex a few months back. It made a terrible sort of sense that giving the collected power to someone else to use would remove most of the Netherhell taint. That was, if draining magic from a demon was anything like spilling blood to raise power.
“Are the runes correct, Master Torven?” Bishop Koler asked politely, almost respectfully, letting Rexei know that the mage had come a long way from his status as a mere prisoner. She wrinkled her nose at the implications of that.
“Torven?” Alonnen repeated, staring at the face visible in his scrying mirror. The foreigner walked around the chalked lines scribed on the floor as Alonnen and Rexei watched. One good look at that distinctive Aian face, and he reared back. “Oh bloody Netherhells . . . it is him. I’d wondered if it was.”
Rexei frowned. “You know him? But how, if he’s a foreigner? I couldn’t quite catch his name myself when he was being interrogated. I was forced to hide in the next room and had to strain my ears to hear.”
Alonnen shrugged. “Late last summer I was contacted by Guardian Kerric. He wanted to exile a group of adventurers that had tried to wrest control of the Tower from him—this man being their leader,” he added, lifting his chin at the Aian mage. “The worst of the lot. Cunning, ambitious, self-centered, greedy . . . but rather too self-controlled to destroy himself with his own mistakes. Unfortunately.
“Sir Vedell of Arbra wasn’t at his Fountain at the time the deal was being made, so I stepped in and offered to dump them on the Arbran/Mekhanan border. On the Arbran side by a good thirty miles,” he added at her swift, sharp look. “It was as far away as I could get the mirror-Gate to work in conjunction with the Fountainways used to transport them all the way from eastern Aiar. Even a would-be power thief didn’t deserve capture by Mekha’s troops, or so I thought . . . though now I’m regretting my kindness. If he’s the one behind this Netherhell effort, then he is the one we have to take out. Remove him, and everything will collapse.”
“Maybe not,” Rexei cautioned him, recalling something. “The others . . . they sent word to the other temples. We don’t know how many have agreed to follow his teachings. We don’t know how easy it is to teach someone to conjure a demon. And we don’t know whether or not removing this Torven fellow will prevent the invasion . . . or cause it to happen. What the others in your Guild told me when I first met them as a journeyman Messenger still applies.”
Alonnen gave her a curious look. “What’s that?”
“That a half-trained mage is more dangerous than we may realize.” She gestured at the mirror, where Mage Torven was scowling and lecturing two of the novices about not attempting any of this on their own. The guilty flush of their cheeks and their lowered gazes showed how close a probability that had been.
“. . . In fact, I don’t want any of you to try this on your own, all the way up through to the archbishop himself,” Torven added sternly. “We still haven’t found the right Netherhell, and we will not act precipitously. One false step, one overconfident step, and we are all dead. These aren’t cowering civilians in the streets. These are monsters from our blackest nightmares, and they will seek any excuse to rip us to shreds and feast upon our remains. Some may even prefer to devour us one bite at a time while we’re still alive and screaming.”
Rexei winced. So did Alonnen, she noticed. The Aian mage continued his lecturing as they secretly watched.
“There will be no rushing, no practicing unsupervised, and no mistakes allowed. Elcarei has arranged for your brethren who are interested in joining us to begin transporting themselves here to learn. Patience is our new holy motto,” they heard him say as he paced slowly around the larger circle. “Learn it . . . or I will ensure you die by your own hand, just to sate the demons’ bloodlusts and seal whatever Gate you crack open by accident—and I’ll remind you, unlike you, I am fully trained in three foreign methods. Not just of magic but of magical combat.”
A slash of his hand and a snap of his fingers jerked one of the two novices to his feet, even though the Aian man had his back to the velvet-clad ex-Mekhanan.
“I—I’m a little kettle, squat and broad!” the teenager stammered, eyes wide as his lips moved without his will. One hand flung itself up, the other hand thumped onto his hip in a fist. “Here is my h-handle! Here i-is my spigot!”
A second snap let the youth go. He staggered back, blinked a couple times in fear, then quickly sat himself down again.
“The poem rhymes in Aian,” Torven stated, his dry words filling the confused silence. “Suffice it to say, I am quite adept . . . but I am nothing compared to the wiles of a demon, should a brief moment of carelessness, of rushing things, allow one of them to get free.” He turned back to Koler and nodded at the chalked circle. “Your containment runes are almost perfect, bishop.”
Koler smiled smugly. Torven did not smile back in return.
“Almost is not good enough. The circle has a small wobble in it, to your right. That’s a point of weakness that is potentially exploitable. Perhaps a weak demon would not be able to break free, but we will learn to do everything correctly from the earliest stages onward. The Aians have a saying, ‘Begin as you mean to go on.’ So let us begin again, Koler,” Torven directed, clapping his hand on the older mage’s shoulder. “You may use an erasing spell to fully clean the stone, and this time you may use a compass spell to ensure the innermost circle is smooth.
“Drawing it by hand was a learning example, to show how even the smallest flaws can be a cause for concern. Your patience at this stage in the learning process, bishop, is deeply appreciated,” he finished, before stepping back.
“Dammit,” Alonnen muttered, watching the older priest comply. “This isn’t right.”
“What’s wrong now?” Rexei asked him, confused. “Because of his thoroughness, it sounds as if we’ll actually have time to figure out how to counter their intentions before they actually start summoning in earnest.”
“He’s being too cautious,” he complained. “For a man of such overwhelming arrogance as I saw over the last few months, he should have some flaws—not that I’m complaining about having the time to study the problem and come up with something solid, but I suspect the only reason why we can scry is because he hasn’t looked at the temple wardings. Now that Mekha isn’t blocking us out, what protections are left aren’t quite good enough to keep out a double-focus like this paper-bug-and-mirror system Pelai sent me.
“I suspect that’ll end once they get around to reinforcing the shielding, particularly with this fellow’s help. He’s far too clever. Cautious and clever are great traits in an ally,” Alonnen said, giving Rexei a brief smile. He then lifted his chin at the mirror, “But they’re frustrating in an enemy.”
“So he’s arrogant, but he’s not overconfident,” she murmured. “And charming enough to have won over his former jailors.”