“If we had it, we would!” Temar cried, frustrated. “We do not. Why else do you think we tried this?”
“I doubt shouting is going to achieve very much.” Avila strode into the room with Velindre and Allin at her heels. All three swept graceful curtseys to the Emperor, the swish of skirts the only sound to ruffle the abrupt silence.
“May I make known Avila, Demoiselle Tor Arrial,” said Temar, for want of anything better. “And Velindre Ychane, Allin Mere, mages of Hadrumal.”
“You didn’t get here by carriage.” Tadriol looked disconcerted for the first time.
“Velindre’s magic served the purpose rather better.” Avila fixed the Emperor with an impatient glare. “I take it you want us to prove ourselves?”
“How do you know that?” Tadriol looked instantly suspicious.
“Allin scryed for you when the Relict left.” Avila spared the girl an approving smile that set her blushing scarlet. “It did not look a happy conversation and I have had a bellyful of Tormalin scepticism these last few days, so it seemed a likely guess.”
“You didn’t translocate here when you only knew the place through scrying?” Casuel was looking scandalised at Velindre.
“Where’s Lady Channis?” Ryshad asked suddenly.
“On her way home in her carriage,” Allin assured him.
“Can we stick to the point before us?” Avila asked, scathing. “What kind of proof do you need, highness, to accept the evidence of your own eyes?”
Tadriol looked thoughtful, rolling the overlarge ring round his finger. “You say this spell has to be worked between two mages?”
Velindre nodded.
“You, go with my Steward.” The Emperor pointed abruptly at Casuel. “Master Jainne, take him to some room at the far end of the palace. No, don’t ask me, I don’t want anyone in this room knowing, not until this lady here finds him with her magic’ He inclined his head stiffly at Velindre.
The Steward relieved his feelings by slamming the door once he’d hurried Casuel through it. The wizard’s anxious queries went unanswered and rapidly faded into the distance.
Silence swelled to fill the small room with tension. Temar found it impossible to sit or stand still. He walked around, ostensibly admiring the delicate paintings hung on the walls. Landscapes were picked out in subtle watercolour, a suggestion of trees framing a proudly Rational dwelling here, a tangle of ivy detailed over the ruins of some ancient house there. Tiny script engraved below identified it as the Savorgan residence of Den Jaepe. Temar sighed; those towers were clearly long since fallen from the heights he remembered. He moved on, a sideways glance showing him Allin perched on the edge of her chair, face unhappily flushed. Their eyes met, he gave her a momentary smile of encouragement, and the answering support in her gaze rewarded him. Ryshad was still by the door, stance straight as a lance. Avila was similarly stiff-backed, hands neatly folded in her lap, every year of her age plain on her weary face. The only people seemingly at ease were Velindre and the Emperor. The lady mage was looking around the room with unashamed curiosity while Tadriol relaxed in his chair, watching her.
“That should be long enough,” the Emperor said, suddenly sitting upright. “Show us where he is.”
Velindre calmly retrieved the tray from beneath the window. “I take it this is what Cas was using?” She glanced at Tadriol. “Don’t you think he’d have come a little better prepared if this was all some elaborate hoax?”
Temar fetched her a taper from the mantelshelf.
“Thank you.” Scarlet fire blossomed in her hand as she set the tray high on the mantel, holding the taper in front of it, face seemingly more angular than ever as she worked her magic.
A smooth golden glow in the centre of the shining metal deepened to a burning amber before splitting around a silver rift. Almost too bright to look at, the brilliant lines framed a widening picture of Casuel sitting indignantly in a small room with a single window high behind him, washstand and ewer just visible.
Velindre smiled. “Your Steward seems to have put my esteemed colleague in a privy.”
“He’s on his way to tell you that himself,” snapped Casuel crossly, glaring through the spell. “Kindly send him back with the key.”
Temar had to turn away to hide his smile and saw the top of Allin’s head as she stared determinedly at the floor.
Velindre licked finger and thumb, snuffing the taper with a faint hiss. “Sufficient proof? We could argue the rights and wrongs of it all day.”
“Your talents certainly seem to be all that your associates boasted,” Tadriol said slowly.
Velindre smiled. “The cockerel can crow all he wants, highness, but it’s the hen that yields the eggs.”
A smile tugged at the Emperor’s mouth before he looked at Avila, face intent. “You say you can compel the truth. Do so, to me, now.”
“If you wish.” Avila pressed bloodless lips together. “Do you swear by all you hold sacred to speak truth not falsehood? This will only work if you are a man of your word.”
“I swear by the blood of my House and my father,” Tadriol said with forceful indignation.
“Raeponin an iskatel, fa nuran aestor. Fedal tris amria lekat.” Avila spoke with biting precision. “Now, Emperor Tadriol the Provident, fifth of that Name, tell me you do not suspect Dirindal Tor Bezaemar of a hand in the deaths that have plagued your House!”
Tadriol opened his mouth, frowned and licked his lips. He swallowed hard, once and then a second time, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Fear creased his brow momentarily before he mastered a calculating frown. He coughed. “True enough, my lady, I suspect her and with better reason than you know.” He pointed abruptly at Velindre. “Do it to her!”
“I swear to speak truthfully, on the air that I breathe and the magic it grants me.” Velindre seemed unperturbed.
Avila repeated her incantation as Tadriol moved to stand in front of Velindre, searching her face with merciless eyes. “Then was there any deception in what I saw? Is this some scheme concocted by Hadrumal?”
“No deception, no concoction,” she said calmly. “You saw the plain, unhindered truth. Ask Channis, if you don’t trust us.”
“I may just do that,” the Emperor retorted. Turning on his heel, he walked over to the window and stared out into the gardens. “Get out, all of you. I have a great deal to think through and precious little time.”
Temar didn’t move. “You have to act before D’Olbriot and Tor Bezaemar bring chaos down on us all.”
Tadriol turned his head with a ferocious scowl. “Chaos is no matter for foolish jests, D’Alsennin.” His anger faded in the face of Temar’s evident confusion. “I think this afternoon’s dance should be soon enough, don’t you? I’ll see you all there, all of you, including you, chosen man. Ask Master Jainne for cards.” He looked back out through the window, arms folded across his chest.
Temar realised everyone was looking at him for guidance. “Until this afternoon, then.” He led the way out through the anteroom. Out in the corridor the Steward came hurrying towards them with a faintly malicious air.
Temar spoke before the man could open his mouth. “Yes, we know you thought it amusing to shut Cas in the privy. Go and let him out. We’ll wait downstairs. Oh, and you can bring us five cards for this dance.”
Ryshad heaved a sigh of relief as the Steward left. “The Sieur has already told me I’m attending you this afternoon. That means we’ve a card over to settle our account with Charoleia.”
Temar managed to set aside the distracting thought of dancing with the enticing beauty.
“Can you show us to the stairs?” Velindre was frowning as she spoke and not merely over the route out of the palace. Casuel was lost in ecstatic rapture but Allin was looking distraught.
“Is there some problem?” Temar asked her.