Magic's Promise

'Ideas?' Vanyel asked, looking from Savil to Jervis and back again. 'I've got one, but I want to hear yours first.'

Savil wedged herself in the window seat, back flat against one wall, feet braced against the opposite wall, fingers laced together across her knees. 'You said you went across the Border to get answers,' she said, as if she was thinking out loud.

'And I found them - some of them,' he agreed, eyes half-closed, staring at the patterns that firelight and shadows made on her Whites.

'But you also found more questions. I'm wondering if you just weren't there long enough. And I wonder if we all really ought to go back there. With two Adept-class mages it ought to be ridiculously simple to come up with illusion-disguises for four of us.'

'Hide the boy in plain sight you mean?' Jervis was sitting backwards on one of the straight-back chairs, with his chin resting on his arms. He blinked sleepily while Savil spoke. Now he raised his head and looked alert. 'I like that! Last place they're going to look for the boy is back where he came from!'

Vanyel nodded. 'That was something of the same idea I had. We could further confuse the issue - go across the Border as, say, four Heralds making up a peace envoy to Vedric. Once outside Highjorune, we could switch to magic disguises and come into the city by pairs - Jervis and me, Tashir and Savil. One thing they won't be expecting, and that's Tashir with a woman. We meet up at an inn, say, on the better side of town. I could be a Bard this time, instead of a minstrel; you lot could be my entourage. Nose around, see what we can find out.'

'Van, I think you and I need to actually get into the palace,' Savil put in, staring up at the ceiling. 'I think we ought to try and find out exactly what happened and what that attack was. If it was magic, that alone would rule Tashir out.'

'Hmm.' Moisture beaded the outside of his goblet. He ran his finger down the side, collecting the droplets, and traced little patterns on the table in front of him with a wet forefinger. 'Do you think getting Tashir back into the palace might trigger his memory as well?'

'It might,' Savil said, moving her gaze down until she caught his eyes. 'It's worth a try.” “Then let's do it.'

'I never thought I'd see this nag cowed!' Jervis chuckled, the rising sun at his back throwing their shadows far ahead of them on the dark-paved road. Three of the four shadows were as long-limbed and graceful as the Companions that threw them. The fourth crow-hopped from time to time as the raw-boned, ugly stud Jervis sat made his displeasure as obvious as he could.

Savil laughed. 'He doesn't look too cowed to me!”

'Compared to what he was like before your two ladies chased him up and down the paddock all night, he's an angel!' Jervis chuckled, reaching out and hitting the stud between the ears with his fist when he bucked a little too hard. The gray stud squealed and laid his ears back; an answering squeal from Kellan and a showing of her formidable teeth settled him back down.

“I hate to think what Meke is going to do to me when he finds out what we've done,' Vanyel murmured. He was still feeling guilty about 'borrowing' the stud without a 'by your leave.'

'What else were we going to use?' Savil asked in a sweetly reasonable tone of voice, as Yfandes snorted. 'That blasted stud of Meke's was the closest thing to white on the holding, besides being the only beast with the endurance to keep up with three Companions!' She chortled. 'Come to that, he's a good match for Jervis as a Herald, provided you're seeing the real Jervis and not the glamour you put on him.'

Jervis did make a very unlikely looking Herald. Tashir fit a set of Vanyel's cast-off Whites, left from when he was seventeen, fairly well. Vanyel and Savil had their uniforms, of course. But for Jervis it had been a case of hasty make-do. He wore one of his own shirts, and had squeezed himself into a pair of Vanyel's white breeches, but they'd had to sacrifice a sleeveless leather tunic of Savil's, opening the seams on both sides and punching holes, then lacing it onto him. He wore his own boots - brown - but they hoped no one would notice that.

'So long as we aren't dealing with anyone who can see through the glamour we'll be all right.'

'Are you sure any spy Vedric might have on the Border won't pick this up?' Savil asked.

'Well, Heralds are supposed to feel a little of magic. A full illusion would radiate for too much, but an enhancement should pass without any trouble.'

“But won't Vedric pick up the illusion-disguises once we're in town?' Jervis said suddenly. The stud took advantage of his distraction to try to buck him off.

Yfandes nipped the stud's flank, Kellan kicked him, and Jervis bashed him between the ears, all simultaneously. Vanyel choked down a laugh.

The stud shrilled his indignation, but settled again.