pointed to the rear of the laboratory. “Back there, you see the Royal Repository of Arcane Artifacts. Over there is the Royal Water Closet. Yonder sits my desk. The rather attractive chair is mine as well.” She put her hands on her hips and let her forced smile fall.
“I believe that concludes your tour, Mage. I’m sure you have many other duties to attend. Please feel free to drop by again when Tirlin next hosts the Accords, in twenty years or so. Good day.”
“Insolent
“Oh, I know perfectly well who I’m abusing,” said Meralda. She found her smile again. “I’ll not waste time pretending to be civil. Not on the likes of you. Show yourself out, won’t you? I have work to do. Mage’s work.”
Meralda turned her back on the furious wizard, and marched toward her desk, counting the steps as she went.
“We will meet again, girl. Oh yes. We will meet again.”
Meralda waved briefly over her shoulder. She did not look back.
The laboratory doors were flung open with a bang. Booted feet stamped angrily from the room. Voices were raised outside, cut off as the doors slammed shut again.
Meralda reached her desk and sagged against it.
Mug’s leaves whipped as if in a windstorm. “What was that, mistress? If he wasn’t intent on murder before he certainly is now.”
Meralda mopped sweat from her forehead and managed a grin. “Men who rage commit rash acts.”
“Murder chief among them,” said Mug. He emulated a heavy sigh. “Wait. I recognize the raging quote. Tim the Horsehead, isn’t it?”
Meralda nodded, glad Mug couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart.
“Mistress. I hope you know what you’re doing. The man’s name means life-taker, remember? No telling how many mages he killed just to print that on his stationary.”
“What was I supposed to do? Serve him tea, polish those ridiculous boots?” Meralda yanked back her chair and sat. “As long as his attention is on me, it’s not on the Tower. Heaven help us all if he finds the curseworks and realizes what they are.”
“I am taking every effort to ensure that does not happen,” said the Tower. The image in the glass shimmered and showed Humindorus Nam’s thin back stamping down the stair, his cloak flapping behind him like a pair of furled wings. “You should note, however, that the wizard left behind a listening charm when you turned your back.”
Mug squealed. The Tower continued. “Nameless rendered it useless. He has heard nothing.”
“Thank you, Nameless,” said Meralda. A shadow flitted across the ceiling.
A furious knock sounded at the door. “Mage!” cried the captain. “Meralda! Are you all right?”
“Come in,” cried Meralda. “I’m fine.”
The captain and the Bellringers spilled through the door. Meralda turned in her chair to face them.
“What the devil…?” began the captain.
“I wanted a word with the mage, Captain. Alone.”
The captain bit back his response. Tervis and Kervis exchanged glances, but took their hands off their sword hilts.
“He wasn’t rude to you, was he, ma’am?” asked Kervis.
“No more than I expected.” Meralda shook her head. “I am the mage to Tirlin,” she said. “I appreciate your concern. I do, really. But I’m neither helpless nor foolish.”
“No.” The captain took in a great breath. “Forgive me, Mage Ovis. You know what you’re doing.”
Meralda smiled. “You need not apologize for being concerned, Captain. I’m concerned too. Which is why I’ll ask you to assign as many keen eyed young men as you can spare to follow our Vonat friend about for the remainder of the Accords.”
The captain tilted his head. “You know of course that we’re already doing that.”
“I suspected as much. Have these young men of yours been seen?”
“Not once. They’re very good.”
“Then assign a few with less skill. Encourage them to keep a safe distance. Just make sure the Vonat knows his movements are being watched.”
The captain grinned. “Consider it done, Mage. Anything else?”
“Coffee. Lots of coffee.” Meralda sighed. “And bring me a proper dagger. Not fancy or ornamental. One that fits in a boot.”
The captain nodded, all humor gone. “At once. Tervis, fetch the mage her coffee. I’ll stand watch in your place.”
The captain winked, and the trio backed through the doors, closing them softly behind them.
The pot of coffee was empty when the Bellringers accompanied Fromarch through the laboratory doors.
The aging wizard bore a box of jelly filled pastries from Flayne’s and a moth eaten burlap bag.
“Ho, Mage,” he said, opening the box and offering the contents to Meralda. “Oh, go on, take one. You could use a bit of flesh on those skinny bones. Hello, houseplant. You’re looking as leafy as ever.”
Mug returned a mock salute. “Mage. Grey fur suits you.”
Fromarch chuckled and bowed toward Goboy’s glass. “Tower. I don’t believe we’ve met, formally.”
“Mage,” said the Tower. “Greetings.”
Fromarch nodded gravely. “After all these years. You could have said hello before, you know. I wouldn’t have charged off telling the papers.”
The Tower had no reply. Fromarch shrugged and grabbed a pastry. “Well, if you’re not going to eat them I will, Meralda. Cost me a bloody five pence, you know.”
Meralda rolled her eyes, but selected a cherry filled donut and bit into it.
She closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. “I had forgotten how good these are.”
“You’ve likely forgotten to eat at all today, I’ll wager,” muttered Fromarch. He wiped his lips on his sleeve. “But I’m not your mother. Came to fill this bag. Do you want to know what with?”
“Will knowing cause me to lose sleep?”
“Without a doubt. You said cause trouble. That’s what our daft Eryan friend and the old Hang gentleman intend to do. We need a few things from the shelves. Bad things.” The old wizard’s face split into a rare grin. “Bad, bad things.”
Meralda swallowed and raised her hands. “Take what you need. I don’t want to know.”
“Not even a hint?”
“Not even a hint.”
Fromarch nodded. “Well, you might want to release the wards on aisle eight,” he said. “Lots of bad things there.”
“Oh. The red crate on the north wall. I’ll want in that, too.”
Meralda spoke the words that revealed the row of hidden sigils, and then traced the release pattern on the aisle eight ward.
“The red crate? The one every mage since the two hundreds has been warned never to open?”
“Always wanted to see what was in that bugger,” said Fromarch. “If we don’t know, the Vonats certainly don’t. It feels like a night for surprises, don’t you agree?”
Meralda bit her lip. “Are you sure about this?”
“’Fraid so, Mage. We’re up against Hang magic we don’t understand. We need something they aren’t expecting.”
Meralda spoke the word and traced a glowing pattern in the air.
“Done,” she said. Another word hid the sigils. Meralda turned, but Fromarch was already disappearing among the shelves, humming a merry tune as he made for aisle eight.
