Страница 105 из 125
“Then what is so urgent—”
“I need something metal, something shiny.” Casuel looked vacantly around.
Ryshad grabbed a tray of glasses from a side table, dropping one in his haste. It shattered in a spray of crystal shards. “Here.” He set the other goblets aside and threw the salver at Casuel who caught it as it hit him in the chest.
“I’ll wait for my answers, shall I?” The Emperor’s self-possession was returning. Nevertheless he unobtrusively retrieved his hand bell and set it on his desk in mute warning. “But don’t try my patience too long.”
“A candle?” Temar snatched a virgin taper from a small pot on the mantelshelf. He caught Casuel’s arm and forced the wizard on to a chair facing the ornate table. Sweeping aside a clutter of letters, he thrust the taper at the wizard.
“Do you need a tinderbox?” asked the Emperor with faint courtesy. “I take it you’re one of the Archmage’s underlings?”
“One of his associates, his liaison with D’Olbriot,” Casuel stopped to smile ingratiatingly. “It has to be a conjured flame, your highness.”
“Then conjure it,” snapped Temar.
The mage snapped hesitant fingers, once, twice, but no scarlet magic flared to light the wick. Temar swallowed a curse and felt the blood pounding in his chest. A tentative knock sounded at the door and Ryshad moved to brace one booted foot firmly against the wood.
“You have done this often enough,” Temar encouraged the wizard in a tight voice. “Even Allin can work thus.”
The taper spat a flicker of crimson fire, the spark strengthening to a modest flame. Temar handed Casuel the shiny tray. It rattled against the table as the mage’s hand shook but a pinpoint of gold reflected steadily from the centre of the polished metal. It spread raggedly outwards like fire burning through paper, brilliant edges leaving a smoky void behind. Scars sparked across the emptiness like lightning splintering a stormy sky.
“It’s Velindre,” Casuel said crossly. “She’s manipulating the spell from her end.”
“Then work with her, as best you can,” Temar urged him.
“She’s not cooperating,” Casuel grumbled, but as he spoke voices came out of the emptiness to echo round the silent room.
“My Lady Cha
The Emperor looked at Temar, surprise and curiosity joining forces to win out over the last of his indignation. “That sounds like Dirindal Tor Bezaemar.”
“Please look into the magic,” Temar begged. “Then we will explain, I swear.”
The Emperor rose slowly from his chair to move behind Casuel. “What’s going on?”
Lady Cha
Temar looked into the magical reflection of distant reality. Lady Cha
Dirindal Tor Bezaemar was standing by a fireplace filled with blue and purple flagflowers. “I may have mentioned it, but only to try and find out who’d be saying such things.” Her genial face creased in a plump smile. “Now I remember. That foolish Tor Sylarre girl was letting her tongue run away with her. I told her I didn’t believe a word of it.”
Cha
“Talagrin himself couldn’t tame Jinty’s tongue.” The Relict’s face turned a little weary. “You know she was languishing after Kreve last year? Since he turned her down she’s done all she can to make trouble for our House.”
“And what’s Tor Bezaemar’s excuse for brewing trouble for D’Olbriot?” Lady Cha
“My dear!” Dirindal sat down on a softly cushioned daybed.
Cha
Dirindal clasped beringed hands together. “Orilan’s a sweet child, but she’s inclined to speak without thinking—”
“Don’t,” said Cha
Dirindal’s round face crumpled in distress. “My dear, you must be mistaken. Let me talk to Haerel. He may have said something unwise, perhaps Den Muret mistook his meaning.”
“Do you seriously expect me to believe your nephew, Sieur Tor Bezaemar though he is, does anything without you knowing of it?” Cha
“My dear, I quite understand you’re cross,” said Dirindal faintly. “But I don’t think I deserve these unwarranted accusations.” She fumbled in the silver net purse laced at her waist and dabbed her eyes with a lace trimmed kerchief.
The Emperor glared at Temar. “I’ve no interest in hearing women scratching at each other’s corn,” he whispered.
Casuel looked up. “It’s all right, they can’t hear us.”
“Mind your magic, Cas,” snapped Temar, seeing the image waver and fade. “This is no mere flurry in a hen coop, I swear.”
Lady Cha
“Dast’s teeth!” Involuntary anger escaped Temar.
“What’s been going on?” The Emperor narrowed suspicious eyes at Temar.
“That is what we hope to learn.” He leaned closer to the image framed by the curlicues of the silver tray.
“You’re full of accusations.” Dirindal was glaring at Cha
Lady Cha