“I’m sure you do.” I realised I was rubbing the healed knuckles into my other palm and stopped. “But do you have anything to find the stolen artefacts?”
“What exactly did she do? What did you feel?” Casuel was still looking at my hand so I shoved both in my breeches pockets.
“She stopped it hurting, which is good enough for me. Hadn’t you better bespeak Planir? Find out what he suggests—and find out if Livak’s discovered anything useful on her travels.” I spared a moment for a fleeting regret that I hadn’t gone with her. A summer spent peaceably tramping through forests and mountains would surely have been preferable to all this confusion.
Casuel sniffed and stalked off down the corridor, back stiff with indignation. I watched him go then went off to make myself unpopular with the men I’d so recently been serving with. In some lights, this new rank was starting to look a rather tarnished prize.
The D’Olbriot Residence,
Summer Solstice Festival, Fourth Day, Morning
Casuel walked slowly up to his bedchamber, so absorbed he quite neglected to bow to an elegant Demoiselle hurrying down the stairs. Shocked at the realisation he turned full of obsequious apology, but all he saw was a retreating head bright with a jewelled net encasing coiled braids. The girl had taken no more notice of him than of the maid on the landing below, a mere servant with arms full of linen and head empty of anything.
Goaded by complex dissatisfaction, Casuel locked his door behind him and picked up the bedside candle. He snapped his fingers at the wick, feeling little of the usual thrill at bending inert substance to his bidding. As he set the flame in front of his small mirror, he forced the burnished metal to submit, to reflect the image he wanted rather than the room around him. What Prince of Toremal could do as much, he thought. What Emperor? Constraints of distance were nothing to those who could manipulate the very elements of the physical world. Hearth-Master Kalion was right; such power deserved due recognition. He deserved recognition, him, Casuel D’Evoir.
An image snapped across the surface of the mirror as answering magic bolstered Casuel’s own. “Yes?” Planir looked up from tending a crucible on a charcoal stove. “Oh, it’s you. Good morning.”
“These people have no notion of courtesy to a mage,” Casuel spoke without thinking. “How can they, when they don’t meet a true wizard from one year’s end to the next?”
“Is there some reason you’re disturbing me to tell me this?” The Archmage stirred the contents of his pot with a metal rod.
Casuel missed the warning note in Planir’s distant voice. “No one in Toremal thinks a mage is any more than these tricksters Velindre’s wasting her time with.”
Planir set down his rod with a rattle striking a faint echo from Casuel’s mirror. “You’ve something to say about Velindre?”
Casuel looked surprised. “No, not as such. Just that she’s doing herself no credit chasing round the city after every charlatan who claims the least sniff of an affinity.”
“Then perhaps you’ll wait until you do have something to tell me before you bespeak me again.” Planir’s displeasure came ringing through the shining metal.
“Oh, no, Archmage, I’ve plenty to tell you.” Casuel hesitated. “Well, quite a lot. Messire D’Olbriot faced an array of accusations before the Imperial Court yesterday. That’ll tie him up in argument until Equinox at least, the other senior Esquires of the House too, probably. Four other Names are claiming rights in Kellarin, there’s been argument to declare D’Alsennin’s House extinct, and someone or other has raised accusations of bad faith against D’Olbriot, using an advocate claiming to be a friend of the court.”
“Then find out who’s behind it and let me know,” Planir said in exasperation. “D’Olbriot defeated before the Imperial Court would have appalling consequences! It’s been hard enough convincing Guliel and Camarl we’re not all overbearing autocrats like Kalion, and they’re the most open-minded nobles we could find. We have to have Tormalin cooperation over Kellarin, Cas, never forget that.”
“It’s Kellarin I wanted to mention,” said Casuel reluctantly. “You know those artefacts, the ones D’Alsennin somehow managed to find—”
Planir raised a hand. “The ones Allin Mere helped him find? Which wouldn’t have been recovered without her quick thinking?”
“Yes.” Casuel’s lips narrowed. “Well, they’ve managed to lose them, D’Alsennin and Ryshad. Thieves took the lot last night.”
The ochre light of the spell flared for a moment, heat palpable on Casuel’s face. Planir’s words were lost, but when the disturbance cleared Casuel could see the crucible beside him had cracked to spill molten metal over the slate-topped table.
“What are you doing to find them?” Planir demanded. “We’ve pledged ourselves to support Kellarin. We may well need their Artifice against the Elietimm, don’t ever forget that!”
“Allin didn’t think to familiarise herself with the actual artefacts,” stammered Casuel. “They didn’t take the box, so she can’t scry for that—”
“Did you make any study of the items?” asked Planir sharply.
“I wasn’t able to,” said Casuel hurriedly. “Demoiselle Tor Arrial sees such things as her business and no one else’s.”
“Has she any aetheric means of finding the thieves?” Planir looked forbidding. “Is there any hint that the Elietimm are involved?”
“Demoiselle Tor Arrial says no one’s using Artifice in the city.” Casuel was relieved to have something definite to say. “She’s no way to trace the thieves herself but she’s contacting Demoiselle Guinalle. I was wondering if Usara had found any lore among the Forest Folk that might help, or something from the Mountain Men? The book that girl of Ryshad’s fussed over had ballads about following lost trails, didn’t it?” he added hopefully.
“The book you gave so little credence?” Planir smiled for an instant before his face turned grim. “No. There are some interesting leads for Mentor Tonin and his scholars to pursue, but nothing of any immediate use.”
“A shame,” said Casuel, trying to quell an inner satisfaction.
“Quite,” said Planir dryly. He looked at Casuel, and even as a small image reflected in magic his eyes were uncomfortably piercing.
“Doesn’t Master Tonin have some means of identifying Kellarin artefacts?” Casuel asked hastily.
The Archmage shook his head. “He can pick them out of an array of unenchanted objects, but only if they’re to hand.”
A tense silence fell. “Perhaps Guinalle will have some aetheric magic to find them,” Casuel repeated hopefully. If she did, he’d be the one giving the good news to Planir, wouldn’t he? He would be suitably gracious to Usara when he had occasion to mention how much more use he had been to the Archmage.
“Perhaps and perhaps not. What are you doing in the meantime?” Planir demanded.
“I’ve an idea who might be behind this,” said Casuel rapidly. “There’s a scion of Den Thasnet I’ve my eye on. I was going to send Ryshad to follow him but I’d better do it myself. Obviously, as a rule I wouldn’t dream of using magic to eavesdrop, but I think in these circumstances it’s permissable?” He looked hopefully at the Archmage.
“Your high-mindedness does you credit,” Planir remarked with a flatness that made Casuel wonder if his spell was faltering. “Be discreet.”
The mirror blinked to emptiness and Casuel looked blankly at it for a moment. He set his jaw, pleased to see the well-bred resolution in his reflection.
He poured water from the ewer into the basin on his washstand. This was an excellent opportunity to be of service both to D’Olbriot and to the Archmage, he realised with growing pleasure. D’Alsennin and Tor Arrial would be grateful as well when Casuel proved Den Thasnet was their enemy. Both Houses might have limited standing at present, but with the riches of Kellarin backing them the future was looking promising.