Sulimage Kolis Manza, who had been the High Mage’s agent in Celieria before Nour, had done a much better job infiltrating the queen’s inner circle and gaining her confidence. He’d done so well, in fact, that he’d turned her against her king and half her lords and used her as one of Vadim’s most powerful political pawns in Celieria’s royal court. Were it not for the fiasco he’d made of the attempt to capture Ellysetta Baristani, the young Sulimage would still be there.
“I will see to Ellysetta Baristani myself,” Vadim bit out. “As for you, I expect significant results with the queen before your next report. Since you can no longer Mark her without running the risk of discovery, you will have to find another way. I will have the hand of Eld guiding the Celierian throne before the month is out, or you will beg me to show you one tenth the mercy you offer your ownumagi.” Even among the Eld, Nour’s brutality was legend. To Vadim’s grim satisfaction, the Primage went pale as milk beneath his Celierian tan. “We will speak again at this same time seven days hence. I will expect better news.”
“Of course, master. It shall be—” Nour’s muffled voice died abruptly as Vadim lifted the Drogan chalice and tossed its thickening contents down the spell room’s drain hole.
Bah. Sending Nour to Celieria had been a foolish decision. Vadim had hoped a more seasoned Primage would be better equipped to manipulate the mortals and their minds, but despite his substantive magical gifts, Nour lacked finesse. He was a sledgehammer in a situation that clearly required a chisel. Which just went to prove that power alone wasn’t the measure of a great Mage.
Well, Nour was one mistake Vadim would soon remedy.
For now, however, he had a Tairen Soul to trap.
After cleansing his spell room of the Drogan blood magic, he sent his consciousness to everyumagiwithin four hundred miles of Celieria City. Whichever way the Fey had headed, if they dropped their invisibility weaves, he would know it. Finally, carefully, he sent a subtle seeking thread out into the darkness of night and settled in to wait with all the tireless patience of a spider in its web.
When Ellysetta Baristani lowered her defenses, he would be there.
CHAPTERTEN
Relentless warrior
Restless soul
Deadly defender
Daring foe
Fey’cha drawn
Fey magic surrounds
Battle ready
Bravery abounds
Fey Defender, a Fey warrior’s poem
Southeast Celieria
The Fey ran hard through the first silver bells of the night, stopping only once to rest, and then but briefly. Rain flew overhead, Ellysetta seated on his back. The stars scattered the sky like plentiful diamonds, shimmering silver-bright against their backdrop of cool, black velvet.
The twin moons of Eloran reached their apex in the sky, the Daughter still nearly full, the larger Mother a waning quarter. Fatigue weighted Ellysetta’s eyelids. Her lashes drooped, and she slumped in the saddle. The binding straps held her securely in place as she swayed in a boneless rocking motion to the rhythm of Rain’s flight, and her thoughts began to drift like weightless feathers floating upon the cool night wind.
As she drifted, the light of the stars dimmed, and the sparkling night sky became a lightless well, cold and dank and black as pitch.In the silence came the susurration of fabric dragging across stone, the soft pad of slippered feet. Her right palm twitched from the sensation of cool, damp stone abrading the sensitive pads of her fingertips.
She was in a dark cavern wandering through corridors carved out of the surrounding stone. Gradually, the darkness began to ease. Light flickered in the distance. The rough corridor opened to a smoother hallway whose walls were tiled in a mosaic pattern that made her bones tingle with recognition. whatever the pattern was, it was magic, and some part of her knew it. The flickering light came from the sconces installed along the length of the corridor. This was no simple cavern. This was a place of great power and magic. The same part of her that recognized the patterns of the tiles also recognized this place.
She turned down an adjacent hallway and walked to its end, where another two doorways offered the only possible exits. The first, directly in front of her, was a large wooden door with a golden knob. The second, to her right, was aseldor-clad door that shimmered with powerful magic wards. Both doorways drew her, but the pull from the doorway on the right was overwhelming.
She turned and laid her hand upon the tingling veil of magic. Words in a language she did not know spilled from her lips, and power flowed down her arms to her fingertips. The weave of magic protecting the doorway began to unravel. She reached out to turn the knob. The door swung open.
Inside, another well-lit corridor opened to a wide room. Several tables dominated the center of the room, each fitted with leather restraining straps. The tables were currently occupied by women in advanced stages of pregnancy. Their faces were flushed with exertion. Sweat beaded upon their brows, and it was obvious they were giving birth.
As she drew closer, she gasped in shock, recognizing several of the faces.
These were the Celierian noblewomen she had just visited this morning. The women pregnant because of her carnal weave.
Attendants scuttled around the room, moving with swift efficiency as they tended the laboring women. As Ellysetta watched, one of the women strapped to the tables gave a straining grunt that turned into a shrill wail. The attendant waiting between her spread knees lifted a squalling newborn in triumph. Two more attendants hurried over to swiftly cut the cord and carry the baby away to a nearby table, where they washed the child and swaddled it tight in white linen wraps. The woman lying on the table mumbled, “My baby…” but one of the attendants was already carrying the infant away to a connecting room. The mother began to weep and struggle weakly against her bonds.
The empathic part of Ellysetta’s soul seemed strangely distant, unmoved by the woman’s obvious distress. Instead, drawn by the same driving compulsion that had brought her to this room, she followed the attendant carrying the child. A short corridor led from the birthing room to a nursery. Inside, dozens of cradles lined the walls of the room, and in each lay a swaddled infant.
