“My lady.” I bowed low. “We are deep in your debt.” I doubted Casuel had shown any gratitude but the House of D’Olbriot owed this woman a full measure of thanks, and for good or ill I was its representative here.
“It’s lucky you were there,’ chipped in Casuel.
“Luck had nothing to do with it.” She made a plain statement of fact out of words that could so easily have been arrogance, rebuke or both. “I’ve been making a study of the air currents off the Cape of Winds this past half-year. When I heard Esquire D’Alsennin would arrive around the middle of the season, I decided to work our way up the coast. I scried his ship as well as the likely impact of the storm and thought it best that we make landfall together. Given Urlan’s accident, it’s as well we did.” She addressed me directly, leaving Casuel tugging impatiently at the ties of his cloak. Her voice was low and a little husky, as self-assured as her stance. For all her Mandarkin name, the regular accents of Hadrumal were unshaded by any older allegiance and I guessed she had been born on that distant, secretive island.
“You want to meet Temar? Esquire D’Alsennin, that is?” This was setting a new piece on a game board already well into play. I’d want to know more about this unknown lady before letting her loose among the complex concerns of the colony and the House I served, whatever Casuel might have to say about the unquestioning cooperation a mage was entitled to as of right.
“When he has leisure from more pressing matters.” Velindre’s smile lent a sudden feminine air to her almost mannish features. She would never be considered a beautiful woman but her striking appearance would halt any eye and that impact would outlast more conventional charms. A few wisps of fine blonde hair escaped the confines of her hood and she brushed them away from pale lashed hazel eyes. “So you are Ryshad,’ she mused. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I decided to match her directness. “From whom?”
“Initially, from Otrick.” As she spoke sadness seemed to darken the heavy storm clouds above us. “Latterly from Troanna.”
“What has Troanna to do with your studies?” Casuel was fidgeting from one foot to another anxious lest someone else’s manoeuvrings escape him.
“She’s been keeping me supplied with all the news from home, Cas,” answered Velindre easily. “Shall I tell her you were asking after her?”
Casuel blinked, caught off balance. I’ve yet to fully understand the formal and informal ranks and authorities of the wizards of Hadrumal, the ill-defined and often overlapping functions of their Council and their Halls, but I knew enough to know Casuel wouldn’t want the acerbic wit of Troanna, acknowledged as pre-eminent in water magic, sharpened up at his expense. If Cloud-Master and Flood-Mistress kept her informed, Velindre had powerful friends.
“How might Esquire D’Alsennin be of assistance?” I asked politely.
Velindre smiled again. “He’s crossed the ocean and sailed unknown shores with currents and winds that no mage has ever sensed. No wizard ever passes up the chance of new knowledge.”
Which was certainly true, but if that was the whole story I was a Caladhrian pack mule.
“I’ll see if we can accommodate you,” said Casuel with fussy self-importance.
Velindre’s eyes hardened, and I thought for a moment she was about to challenge his pretensions, but a new arrival spared him any rebuke.
“Mage Devoir.” The newcomer bobbed a nervous curtsey that edged the hem of her rose pink dress with the muck of the dockside.
“Allin?” Casuel sounded both surprised and displeased.
“You’re entitled to call him Casuel, just like anyone else,” said Velindre drily. “So how is Urlan?”
The girl Allin looked up, blushed and dropped her gaze to study her folded hands intently. “Both legs are broken and the bosun was saying he’d seen splinters of bone through the skin of his right shin. He’s been taken to the infirmary at the shrine.” Where Velindre was scarcely shorter than me, Allin barely came up to Casuel’s shoulder. Even allowing for the heavy cape bunched round her, I guessed her figure would be as round as her plain snub-nosed face. But her boot-button eyes were bright with intelligence and good nature, attributes lacking in many a prettier girl.
“Do you have lodgings arranged?” I asked.
“The man from the shrine said we could probably stay there as well.” The girl peeped up at me from beneath her dun-coloured fringe. Her Tormalin was fluent but of unmistakable Lescari origin.
“If there’s any difficulty, refer it to me. We’re in the upper guest house,” said Casuel officiously.
“We’ll join you there for dinner.” Velindre turned on her heel with a final smile and before Casuel could shut his protesting mouth her long stride took her out of earshot.
“So who’s she?” I asked the wizard.
Outrage was slow to fade from his well-made features. “Velindre is a mage of some standing in Hadrumal but she’s always claimed to prefer focusing on her studies rather than engaging herself with the wider concerns of wizardry.”
I wondered just where the sneer in his tone was directed but decided his prejudices weren’t worth pursuing. “So she hasn’t been privy to any of Planir’s intrigues over the last year or so?”
Casuel bridled. “I hardly think intrigue is the right word for the necessary care Planir takes of Hadrumal’s interests.”
“Could you bespeak the Archmage, please? To let him know she’s here and apparently interested in the colony.” I made my request with a politeness calculated to soothe Casuel’s ruffled feathers.
“I was intending to do so, naturally.” Of course Casuel had been planning to tell Planir about Velindre; telling tales was another dame-school habit I’d observed in the man over the past half-year. “I wonder if he knows Troanna’s been in touch with her.”
“Shall we do it now? Planir might have an opinion on Velindre’s reasons for being here, and he’ll certainly want to know what’s happened to Urlan.” I wanted all my birds in a row before I encountered Velindre again and there was little enough for me to do here.
“Yes, I should see what news the Archmage has for us, shouldn’t I? Let’s get out of this rain.” Those notions sent the wizard scurrying eagerly up the hill, clutching the hood of his cloak tight beneath his handsome chin.
Once we were back in the guest house chamber he’d appropriated as a study, Casuel set about his wizardry. I’d seen him work various spells over the last season or so, and, oddly, he was at his least objectionable when working magic. The wizard took a seat at the table, setting a steel mirror on the table with a candle before it, lighting the wick with a snap of his fingers and a flourish of the lace at his cuffs. He laid his hands flat on the chestnut wood, eyes fixed unblinking on the reflected flame of the candle
I sat in a corner, content to watch and listen; Casuel could do the talking. What I wanted was Planir, who presumably had the power to curb this Velindre, told of her arrival here, just in case she had some private ambition that might threaten all I was working for. I had no reason to suspect her, but then again no reason to trust her. I didn’t particularly trust Planir either, having suffered the charming ruthlessness of Hadrumal’s Archmage on my own account, but I knew he would always defend his own interests and for the moment those marched in step with mine and those of the House of D’Olbriot.
The candle flame burned yellow then darkened to a bloody orange, the colour tainting the reflection. Shimmering across the mirror, magic began to slowly revolve like water stirred with a rod. Where a hollow might have appeared in swirling liquid, a hole in the very fabric of the air spread across the metal surface, elements yielding to the arcane influence of the mage-born. Casuel was frowning, jaw set in utter concentration, the barest movement of light reflecting from a gold ring on one taut finger. Even after all the times I’d seen Casuel do this, I felt my spine tense at such an inexplicable manipulation of the natural order.