Practical adept book 17.., p.74
Practical Adept: Book 17 of the Spellmonger Series, page 74
“I was well-trained,” she affirmed. “While Aunt Tirkia paid for my education, I was also being trained in how to be an agent. When you’re a bastard orphan girl, you’re considered expendable to the Contramara. And useful. My . . . my mother was an agent,” she confessed.
“What did she do?” I asked, with a sigh.
“She was on a mission to seduce you to infiltrate your barracks. She was informing on you during the occupation. If it’s any solace, she felt really guilty about it, from what Aunt Tirkia says. She botched a raid that they had planned, on purpose, to keep you safe. The Contramara was not happy about that,” she added. “That’s one reason I joined. To make amends for the shame she brought to the family.”
“For giving birth to you?” I asked, apalled.
“No, for failing her mission. That was worse. Farise will never be free unless we are completely committed to the cause. She wasn’t supposed to get personally involved.”
“That’s . . . interesting,” I said, a tangled mix of emotions washing over me. “I suppose that brings us to our greater relationship. You desire a free and independent Farise. That is, the Contramara does. I want to end the threat of piracy based here. Those two goals are not mutually exclusive.”
“That’s not what the occupation forces tell us,” she snorted.
“The occupation is over,” I informed her. “The Alshari exiles ended it and substituted strong-man tyranny in its place. I’m in the process of removing that—”
“So are we!” Lemari insisted, adamantly. “But you keep getting in the way!”
“It’s a chaotic situation,” I reasoned. “But I think we can bring some order to it if you and your fellow insurgents are willing to cut a deal with me.”
“We do not bargain with barbarians!” she sneered.
“You do, all the time,” I countered. “Just hear me out: I think if we can coordinate our efforts, we can achieve our mutual goals. I can’t imagine that the Contramara condone the pirate fleets, here—”
“Barbarians,” she dismissed. “All but the old Farisian fleet. We’ve been secretly supporting it for years,” she boasted.
“Why?” I asked, confused.
“Because it’s the last remnant of the old order. The Admiral was commissioned by Doge Grigor before he was overthrown. It was a lifetime appointment. The Admiral is a man of duty and loyal to a sovereign Farise. He will not stand down until he is properly relieved by the proper Doge. So we support him.”
“I had no idea,” I admitted. “That’s very interesting. But if you want the pirates gone, and I want the pirates gone, then we can come to terms.”
“Why would we do something like that when we are so close to victory?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow – just like Almina did. “We don’t need you to overthrow the occupation.”
“You may think that, but there are things you do not know,” I sighed. “It’s a secret, but you’ll soon learn about it anyway, so there’s no harm in telling you. The Duke of Merwyn is planning on launching his armada at the vernal tides and sending them here, to conquer Farise. More than seventy ships, it’s reported.”
“They won’t have any better luck than the Castali and Alshari!” she insisted.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “And the Castali and the Alshari defeated Farise. And that led to a long, bloody, and unpleasant occupation – which is exactly what you would face if Merwyn ruled here,” I pointed out. “Is that what you want?”
“I want a free and sovereign Farise!” she insisted, folding her arms across her chest. “Nothing less will suffice. We will fight a thousand years to achieve that.”
“Sadly, I believe you,” I admitted. “Which is why I would encourage you to cut a deal with me. I can keep the Merwyni navy out,” I proposed, “and ensure that Farise is protected from outside forces. With magic,” I added. I glanced at Durgan, who reluctantly nodded.
“Yes, he can do that, with my help,” he admitted with a sigh. “But I’m not political,” he reminded us, sternly.
“Of course not,” I said, smoothly. “The thing is, I don’t really have any interest in seeing Castalshar’s flag over Farise, either. Indeed, I can see a lot of problems with that. Apart from being the foundation of the kingdom, the Farisian Campaign was a colossal waste of money and men, and for no real gain except Rard’s glory.
“So I have no objection to Farise remaining independent – as long as it is no longer a haven for piracy. Elect your Doge, rule yourselves, trade with the rest of the world, re-establish your empire, for all I care, but a condition of my participation is that the piracy end.”
“And what do we get for that?” she asked. “What is an alliance with you worth? Hypothetically speaking?”
“Irionite,” I proposed. “I will arm twenty of your best warmagi with irionite. You’ve heard what Orril Pratt’s one witchstone did to the navies of the world. You’ve seen what his nephew can do with the stuff. If Farise had twenty dedicated warmagi armed with witchstones, and a means to close the Sound to foreign ships, then you could enforce your independence fairly easily Against Merwyn, against the pirates, and against Castalshar.”
“That’s . . . that’s an interesting proposal,” she conceded. “But it presupposes that you can come through with both of those.”
I chuckled and produced one of my new witchstones from a hoxter. I laid in in front of her.
“A gift,” I said. “A token of my earnestness that you can show to your superiors. The Spellmonger’s daughter should have a witchstone,” I declared. “All you need do is take the oath from me. Not an oath of loyalty,” I said, quickly, “but an oath of responsible behavior. If you violate it . . . well, I take the stone back from you.”
She eyed the little green pebble suspiciously but with undeniable envy. “For me?” she asked, in a quiet voice.
“You are my daughter,” I reasoned. “You have rajira. You’ve been trained. I doubt I’d put you at a journeyman level, but I’m not picky about such things. My first apprentice got his stone when he was thirteen. I’m going to trust you to be responsible with it, and not let the immense power you’ll have go to your head, but apart from that you are free to use it as you wish.”
“You tempt me,” she said, glancing up at me before returning to the stone. “You say you can get more of these?”
“Lemari, I’m the Spellmonger. I know how to make them, now,” I assured her, confidently. “I can give the Contramara twenty brand-new stones tomorrow if we have a bargain. Once your people are trained on them and learn to use them properly, they will be unstoppable in their defense.”
“But you said you could ward the Sound, too,” she said, after a moment’s thought. “How do you do that? With irionite?”
“Partially,” I agreed. “And partially with this.” It didn’t take me long to locate it in my hoxters – I’d only put it in a few days ago, after all. In a moment I conjured a four-foot rod of weirwood I had spent two days enchanting back in Sevendor. I handed it ceremoniously to Durgan.
“I call it the Rod of Storms,” I informed him as he took it and began examining it with magesight. “Some of my better work, I think. When finished, it will be able to command Stormbringer from afar – I think,” I added. “We won’t know until we test it. It has some very advanced enchantments laid on it: Imperial magic, Alka Alon, and a few novel spells of my own. It’s lacking only one thing,” I said, tapping on an empty setting at the head of the rod.
Durgan understood immediately and fished Orril Pratt’s stone out from under his tunic. He set it gingerly in the setting, where the spells I’d prepared locked it into place. The rod began drawing power from the stone at once.
“It has a very single-minded paraclete within,” I continued. “It will aid you in your research,” I informed Durgan. “It has a complete suite of atmospheric-oriented spells, and means to let you examine the molopor throughout the arcane spectrum. Even divine and necromantic energies.”
“It’s magnificent,” Durgan agreed, as he caressed the rod. “A tool of great power. Yes, with this I think I can enact our plan, Minalan. I can seal the Straights against any fleet, any ship.”
“So there you are,” I nodded toward my new daughter. “I can fulfill my side of the bargain. Will you take this proposal back to the Contramara?”
“It’s . . . interesting,” she agreed, a little more enthusiastically. “If you really can seal the Straights. You really have irionite. I grant you have power. But what is to stop you from using it against us?” she challenged.
“Because it would piss off my daughter, and a good father never does that lightly,” I pointed out. For some reason my throat got thick. “Besides, that would be a bloody-handed way to proceed, and my entire purpose in coming to Farise was to avoid something like that. I don’t want to rule Farise,” I stressed. “I have more important matters to attend to. I just need the pirates gone.”
“I . . . I’ll talk to the others,” Lemari finally conceded. “This is a lot to think about, and I don’t know if we can trust you. You’re a barbarian sorcerer who’s trying to muck about with Farise. They don’t usually like that sort of thing.”
“Tell them about the Merwyni and ask if they can resist seventy ships full of hardened mercenaries,” I suggested. “That might influence their decision. Look, they’re free to discuss it and investigate who I am and determine whether or not I’m trustworthy. In their place I’d be just as suspicious. I—bide!” I requested, as I began to get a contact, mind-to-mind.
Minalan! Mavone’s mental voice shouted in my mind. Where are you?
Safe, I assured him. Sorry, I haven’t had time to check in. But I’m safe. We broke out of the dungeon the Farisian People’s Army had us in, and were rescued at the same time. By the Contramara, I added.
The Contramara rescued you? he asked in disbelief. Why? And why haven’t you returned? The others all got away, you’re the only one still missing.
It’s a long story, but the good news is I have now made a contact in the Contramara. I’m speaking with them now and trying to arrange a truce. Perhaps an alliance. But if you would send an anonymous message to Lady Tirkia assuring her that Mirkandar the Magnificent survived the rescue and is currently in hiding with her niece, I would appreciate it. I don’t want her to worry.
Lady Tirkia? This sounds like another mess, Minalan. How come every time something happens you disappear for a day or two while everything goes to seven hells?
My life just works that way. Why? What’s gone wrong?
Well, the FPA released a list of hostages and demanded concessions about an hour after they took you. Cingaran is now using it as a pretext to raid all over Cesshaven and Porsago Districts, looking for you. But then the college of Electors announced that you were all recovered, so he looks like a fool again. The Electors are calling an emergency meeting to discuss the crisis. There are rolling riots across town. Rellin Pratt is calling for troops to pacify the situation, and offering his naval infantry – Rats, every one of them – to help. Azar and Noutha are showing up tonight – tomorrow is their big day – and they’re bringing a half-dozen of their hand-picked warmagi from the Megelini Order and a chest full of coin to pay out rewards.
Good, good, I agreed. Any word from Aleem? I asked, curiously.
As a matter of fact, he reported in this morning. He says he’s worked out a deal with the Censorate, and asked me about it. All the terms seem reasonable, but he wants to act quickly, before they change their minds.
I have no problem with that. Give me a few more hours to wrap up here, and then I’ll come back to the practice and we can proceed. If we can establish good relations with the Contramara, I think we’ll be well on our way to the conclusion of this mission, I predicted.
If you say so, he said, doubtfully. But this is not going the way we planned!
I looked across the table at the fifteen-year-old daughter I didn’t know I had this morning.
You really have no idea, I agreed, and ended the contact.
Chapter Forty-Five
Increasingly Fragile
Perhaps because of the climate, Farise has traditionally attracted magi from across the Empire to settle in its districts over the years, leading to a local arcane culture that rivals that of any province in the Empire. The government of Farise has prospered accordingly, as no city with so many wise men could fail to thrive as well as the greatest metropolises of Perwyn.
Explorations of Farise, Enshalada, and the Shattered Isles
Author Unknown
“How is it that the moment things get exciting in Farise, you disappear?” Mavone asked, as I came through the Ways into the cellar. “You go to a perfectly normal, incredibly boring meeting, get kidnapped, get rescued, and then vanish for a day. It’s unprofessional,” he chided.
“Take it up with my boss. What did I miss?” I asked, ignoring his jibe. It had been a very long day, I had been knocked unconscious twice, discovered I had an unknown daughter who happened to be a terrorist, had to explain my life to her in the course of a few hours, and then had an exhaustive discussion about the future of Farise while getting steadily drunk on rum. I wasn’t in the mood for a review. Thankfully, Mavone’s teasing belied the excitement in his tired eyes.
“Quite a lot, actually. Let’s start with the mundane and move to the intensely weird. Lorcus reported last night that the Iron Wheel has encamped about three miles north of the city, behind a ridge they control next to the river. Cingaran’s forces have stopped about a half-mile south of them, and are preparing defensive works. There have been a few skirmishes, but those Remeran crossbows have a lot of range, so the Alshari are keeping their distance.”
“Excellent,” I commented, as he led me to the scrying room, which had expanded somewhat. There were more devices and scrying bowls on the trestle tables now. “That’s what we intended. As long as they can keep the army tied up out of the city, we should have some room to maneuver.”
“Then you will also be pleased to hear that Grandmaster Aleem has finally secured a bargain with the Black Censorate. They were fussy about it, but apparently they don’t feel particularly secure without their irionite, so they eventually took a vote to leave Farise by interdimensional portal for Cormeer, where they will disband and accept the witchstones and gold their archenemy, the Spellmonger, has offered them.”
“Every man has his price,” I chuckled.
“In this case, it was a matter of who they were working for. Conditions under Cingaran have deteriorated dramatically, and the order feels abused by its current patron. Aleem wants you to approve the specifics of the bargain, but he said the Censors are ready to depart with a few hours notice.”
“I’ll take a look at the agreement and get Taren to arrange the portal,” I nodded, feeling pleased. I really didn’t want to have to slaughter a bunch of Censors. I admire idealism – I do – and respect a man who keeps his oath to the last.
But this was a practical matter, not one of idealism. The world which required a Censorate was over, and the new one required men with the Talent, the intelligence, the training and the dedication that the Censorate had cultivated for three hundred years. Accepting that would be hard, for an idealist, but all things considered I gave them an easy path out of their situation. Only a fool would ignore it.
“Now let us turn our attention to political matters,” Mavone continued, as he referred to his notes. “Particularly the consequences of that terribly boring meeting you had where you were taken prisoner. That caused quite the stir. When the Farisian People’s Army announced that they had taken hostages, that started a political avalanche of sorts. For one thing, Cingaran moved more troops into Cesshaven and Porsago, and any resistance has been met with him burning down the slums he finds it in. That’s considered heavy-handed even by Farisian standards.”
“If he’s trying to avoid riots, that’s the wrong way to do it,” I agreed with a sigh.
“Oh, it’s worse than that,” Mavone continued. “Most of the edicts that have made their way out of Cingaran’s palace reek of desperation. He’s issued lists of persons to be arrested, he’s continued public hangings in the markets, curfews, checkpoints, all of it. Enforcement is lax except where it isn’t – it seems to depend upon the nature of the commander in the field. It seems the Alshari are starting to suffer a crisis of leadership.”
“Again, as was intended,” I nodded, pleased.
“The response of the College of Electors was telling,” he continued, smoothly. “This fellow Adept Nandus issued a slurry of statements – I don’t think I’d call them edicts, exactly – calling for the ‘city authorities’ to respond to the crisis, hailing it as an attack against the legitimate process of electing a doge. Then, a few hours later when all but one of the hostages was recovered – thanks for that, you caused a lot of headaches for people – he issued another statement, this time denouncing the present ‘city authorities’ as illegitimate, incompetent, and corrupt.”
“Perhaps he issued a third suggesting rain is wet and the sun is hot?” I asked, with a snort.
“Exactly,” Mavone grinned. “But he articulated what everyone was thinking, and portrayed himself as an elder statesman who merely seeks the restoration of order and legitimate authority. Politically speaking, it was well-played.
“But then the Contramara had to step in,” he continued. “The night after your release, a couple of things happened that stirred up the chamberpot into a thick, rich broth: it assassinated two leaders of the Farisian People’s Army in hiding and destroyed one of their installations with lightning. I got that from Iyugi,” he added.
“He’s still in the field?” I asked, surprised. It sounded like it was getting dangerous out there once again.
“Iyugi does as Iyugi sees best, and no one is going to stop him,” Mavone shrugged. “I learned a long time ago to trust the instincts of my best agents. Like trusting you to disappear for hours or days on end and then pop back in like you’ve been on holiday,” he reproved.
