Juliet McKenna - The Assassin's Edge

“You’ve encouraged her ambitions to be Cloud Mistress.” Planir smiled ruefully. “It would be a kindness if you could warn her ahead of time that I shan’t be nominating her to the Council.”

“Why not?” Kalion’s indignation got the better of him once more.

“Because I’ll be nominating Rafrid,” replied Planir simply. “You cannot deny he’s self-evidently the best qualified candidate, both in his elemental proficiencies and with his experience as Master of Hiwan’s Hall. He’s much more of an age to command respect than Velindre and, even after her recent travels, Rafrid has a far wider circle of friends and acquaintances, here in Hadrumal and beyond. He tells me he’s compared notes with alchemists from half the cities between Tormalin and Col.” The Archmage chuckled.

“He cannot hope to continue as Master of the Hall,” Kalion spluttered.

“No indeed.” Planir smiled. “You and Troanna convinced me of that, rest assured. He’s stepping down in favour of Herion.”

“That nonentity?” Kalion’s jaw was slack with surprise. “Whose idea was that?”

“I believe the suggestion came from Shannet.” Planir laughed good-humouredly. “The old hedge-bird can still surprise us, can’t she?”

“She doesn’t stir from her own fireside.” Kalion was too taken aback to conceal his chagrin. “She can barely manage her stairs.”

“That doesn’t stop people visiting her,” Planir pointed out. “She may be old but she still has all her wits and a great many friends besides.”

“I’ll tell Troanna,” said Kalion curtly. He rose to leave.

“You can also tell her I’ve been thinking about her concerns over my own situation.” Planir swung his feet down and leaned forward earnestly. “She’s right, of course. Every Archmage needs a full nexus of Element Masters to back him. I will be nominating a new Stone Master to the Council.”

“Galen?” challenged Kalion.

“No,” The Archmage replied firmly. “My concerns over his fitness haven’t changed and even his closest friends couldn’t claim much success from his attempts to ingratiate himself with a wider circle of acquaintances over this last season or so. I’ll be nominating Usara.”

“What of my concerns over his fitness? Troanna will most certainly object,” warned Kalion heatedly. He looked sternly at the seated Archmage.

“You know, I really don’t think she will,” Planir assured him. “Not when ’Sar tells the Council about his quite spectacular use of magic in the defence of Kellarin’s interests this summer.”

“Just what has he been doing?” asked Kalion through gritted teeth.

Planir hesitated. “I really should leave that for him to explain, to the Council in full session. We should observe the proprieties.”

“You’ve seldom bothered about such things before,” retorted Kalion.

“That’s a fair criticism.” Planir nodded. “I do take heed, and of Troanna’s rebukes.”

Kalion heaved a heavy sigh. “So Shiv and Usara are sinking these pirates? These Elietimm enchanters are put to flight?” He sat heavily in the chair he’d just abandoned and crossed his arms over his barrel chest.

“I believe that’s the general idea,” Planir assured him. “Usara’s working closely with the Demoiselle Tor Priminale—which is another pennyweight tipping the scales in his favour, of course. With him as Stone Master, that friendship with Guinalle could be invaluable for Hadrumal. As and when Tadriol or whoever looks to unite the study of Artifice, Guinalle will be at the centre of their dealings.”

Kalion nodded grudging agreement. “When are we to expect more news?”

“Aritane tells me we should be able to scry safely in a few days’ time,” replied Planir.

“I look forward to that.” There was an unmistakable edge to Kalion’s tone.

“I look forward to the whole business being resolved,” Planir said grimly. “I want this Elietimm threat removed once and for all.”

“So we can apply ourselves to the proper business of wizardry,” Kalion said with relish. “Establishing our influence on the mainland.”

Planir laughed. “Actually, I was more looking forward to having Larissa back again. Did you know she was helping ’Sar and Shiv? I imagine she’ll have all manner of insights into the effective use of a double affinity.” He picked up his book again. “Azazir has some curious theories I’m keen to discuss with her. And, who knows, she may finally agree to marry me.”

“Marry you?” Kalion looked stunned.

“If she’ll have me, and all the encumbrances of my office.” Planir smiled fondly. “I must see if any of the jewellers can supply me with a fitting token of my esteem for her.”

Kalion stood up. “I’ll take my leave of you, Archmage,” he said stiffly. “I expect to be fully informed as soon as you have any news from Kellarin or Suthyfer.”

“Naturally.” Planir merely sketched a wave of farewell as Kalion stomped out of the room, shoulders stiff with annoyance.

The Archmage leaned back in the window seat, looking for his place in the battered journal. He stopped reading after barely a page, marking his place with a feather and looked at the waiting mirror. Shaking his head, he rose and walked rapidly to the door in the panelling.

“So what did we get?” He slid through the door and wrinkled his nose at the smell of smoke and scorched leather.

“You need someone from the library to catalogue these properly.” A mild-faced mage of middle years studied a scroll that crackled as he unrolled it. “We nonentities can’t be expected to know what we’re looking at.” He sounded amused.

“That might be best.” A sturdily built man much of an age with Planir and Herion knelt by the fireplace stacking badly charred tomes inside the fender. He brushed blackened fragments from a blue cuff. “You might like to sort these out, Sannin. No one will wonder why you smell of char.” He grinned at the shapely woman who sat on the silk-hung bedstead.

“Thank you, Rafrid, but I don’t care to have people think I’m losing my touch.” Sannin tucked a lock of lustrous brown hair behind one ear as she leafed through a small book. “Will that little masquerade keep Kalion chasing his own tail until we have more definite news?”

“He’ll have Troanna chasing him,” chuckled Rafrid. “And she’ll be after anyone else who might conceivably know what we’re up to.”

“Quintessential magic’s actually something I’m quite interested in pursuing.” Herion glanced up from his scroll.

“Naturally, once we’ve settled these Elietimm.” Planir leant against the door. “You don’t imagine I was lying to our revered Hearth Master?”

Rafrid set down the seriously burnt book he’d been examining and brushed his hands briskly together. “The first thing Kalion will be telling Troanna is your plan to elevate me above my peers. For which my sincerest gratitude, Archmage.” He looked rather more resigned than elated.

“You can take it up with Shannet, if you don’t want the honour,” Planir offered.

Rafrid pretended to consider this. “No, I’ll take the aggravation of office over her reproaches.”

“She’d never forgive you,” smiled Sannin, still intent on her reading.

“Do you have any ambitions to the honour of Hearth Mistress?” asked Planir idly.

“Me?” Sannin looked up, startled. “No, none at all.”

“You’d tell people exactly that, if such a curious rumour should start circulating?” Planir’s tone was solicitous.

“Just so.” Sannin returned to her book.

“Once word gets round we’ll each have half the Council knocking on our doors.” Herion glanced at Rafrid before looking at Planir. “We’d better have our answers agreed before the rumours start flying round.”