Mage's Blood

22

Circling Vultures

Sainthood

It has been revealed unto us that the humble woman Lucia Fasterius, through service to Kore and the grace of His hand, has attained through her purity that state by which it is beholden to acknowledge her the divinity. Let her name and deeds be proclaimed!

ROYAL EDICT OF EMPEROR CONSTANT SACRECOUR

ELEVATING HIS MOTHER TO SAINTHOOD, PALLAS 927

Javon, on the continent of Antiopia

Martrois 928

4 months to the Moontide

Vultures circled high above, ever hopeful: the desert was no place for the ill-prepared at any time of the year and the scavengers knew it. But Gurvon Gyle never went anywhere unprepared. He sat cross-legged on a low rise in the foothills east of Lybis, watching the sun go down. His wards were blocking a bombardment of attempted communication, most from Tomas Betillon demanding explanations: why had the Gorgio taken fright and fled north? What of the tales coming out of Javon that Cera Nesti had returned in triumph to Brochena? What was going on?

These were damn good questions, and there would have been others had he not been able to control some of the information going to Hebusalim. Not all of it, though: Betillon would know soon enough about the corpses of Gyle’s agents hanging in Brochena Plaza. Damn you, Elena!

The late sunlight glinted off the carapace of a black scarab crawling up his sleeve. How appropriate that the remnants of Rutt Sordell should have manifested as a dung beetle. He needed to find the necromancer a new body, but it needed to be a mage’s body, otherwise Sordell would be incapable of using the gnosis. A living mage body wasn’t easy to find. He was half-tempted to stamp on the filthy thing and have done with him: I left you in charge, Rutt, and now look …

He gritted his teeth in frustration and tried to think through his next step. Twice now Elena had destroyed his plans. He had talked his way down from the gallows after the first, but this latest setback would mean his head if he didn’t set it right before the Crusaders arrived.

Damn you, Constant Sacrecour, for dragging me away, opening the door to Elena – you forced me to contact her, effectively telling her I’d left the continent … damned idiot.

But even he, who knew her better than anyone, hadn’t really believed Elena would take them all on. To slay his whole team, each and every one of them of higher Blood-Rank than her: that was almost miraculous … but it was very much the Elena Anborn he knew. He would have had nothing but admiration for her astonishing feat, had it not endangered him.

Most galling was that he couldn’t decipher her motives. Was this a personal vendetta because he’d taken Vedya to his bed? Or was she in love with one of the Nesti? Was it politics, religion, altruism or just opportunism?

I know you, Elena: love, honour – these things are nothing to you. Or they never used be. Her motivations had always been material or intellectual: head and coin, that was Elena, not heart and body. She was an old dog, like him – she couldn’t have changed. He didn’t want her to have changed. He missed her, strangely. Though Vedya had been far more beautiful, and glorious in bed, there’d been something about the relaxed informality of him and Elena that he needed. Vedya was nothing but ash now and already he could barely remember her face. That said everything.

Elena must have had aid. One against five wasn’t possible – so had the Ordo Costruo helped her? Or some rogue Ordo Costruo from the half-Keshi faction? Now there was a thought – were some of the Builders abandoning their neutrality, taking sides at last? It opened up myriad lines of enquiry.

Even if it wasn’t true, it might provide the story he needed: a plausible and acceptable reason for failure. It was so frustrating, to be reduced to this, but he needed damned good excuses because he was running out of friends. Belonius Vult had joined Tomas Betillon and Kaltus Korion in condemning this latest setback, so he probably couldn’t count on Vult’s backing any more. So the question was: had he run out of second chances? Was it time to cut and run?

He rejected that thought instantly. He still had Coin, the most talented shapeshifter he had ever come across, and he still had Mara Secordin, and his other mage-agents were even now riding the winds towards Javon. Elena couldn’t hide, not with a queen to protect. She’d be on the defensive now, and that was fatal in this type of war. He was Gurvon Gyle, the Grey Fox. He had never lost aduel between spies before, and he never would.

Another questing mind touched his, one he dare not block. His mouth went dry. <Mater-Imperia> he greeted her respectfully.

The touch of Lucia’s mind was viscerally cold as it echoed through the relay-staves. <Magus Gyle. My son and the Grand Prelate have just burst into my chambers in an unseemly panic. They tell me Alfredo Gorgio has fled Brochena, that all of your magi are dead and that no one can contact you. They are demanding your recall to explain yourself to the Chief Inquisitor. What have you to say?>

He swallowed and tried to keep his mind’s voice calm and reasonable. <Majesty, the news is correct: whilst I was in Bres meeting with your council, Elena Anborn led an attack augmented by Ordo Costruo magi, and slew my agents in Brochena. The Gorgio lost their nerve and fled the city. Cera Nesti now holds the palace.>

<You have proof of this Builder involvement?>

A lie, or the truth? An easy choice. <Yes, milady. Elena was able to attack all of my magi simultaneously and overcome them. I have certain knowledge that rogue Ordo Costruo were involved.> He plucked a plausible name from memory. <They were sent by Emir Rashid of Halli’kut.>

<Certain knowledge?>

<There is no doubt, Mater-Imperia.> If you’re going to lie, do it with conviction.

<How did she know you were in Bres, Magus Gyle? I understood you had taken some pains to ensure that she would not be aware of your absence.>

Emperor Constant was nothing compared to Lucia. Gyle knew whose protection he would rather enjoy. <Whilst in Bres, I was persuaded by the emperor, Wurther, Betillon and Korion to contact Elena, to try and buy her off. Use of relay-staves is distinctive. Realising that I was contacting her from afar, she obviously decided to attack in my absence.>

Gyle sensed anger on the part of the Empress-Mother, but when she responded her mental voice was still calm. <I will speak with my son.> She paused for a few seconds, clearly struggling with her temper. <I am beginning to feel some admiration for the audacity of this Anborn woman. Her initial treachery was merely capricious. This latest act shows verve and cunning. Magus Gyle, we have a difficult situation now: the Crusades begin in two months, and we have lost our grip on Javon. We do not have time to bring anyone else in. We are dependent on you delivering what you have promised. Needless to say, your life depends upon it too.>

<I fully understand that, Mater-Imperia.>

<Lord Betillon is demanding I send the Dorobon legion via windship ahead of schedule to Hytel and commence war.>

<With respect, he is wrong, Imperia-Mater. The Gorgio are broken. The Jhafi harassed them all the way north. Even if General Korion could spare the windships, the Dorabon arriving would precipitate the Shihad too soon. Please give me time.>

<So what is your new plan? What other resource do you have, and how will you proceed? If the Anborn woman has Ordo Costruo help, we must support you.>

<Mater-Imperia, the Javon situation is now very delicate. The Nesti have aligned with the Jhafi, and the death of Cera Nesti could throw the entire country into the hands of the shihad. We cannot let Cera forge an alliance with the sultan, so I plan to replace her. As you know, Coin is already in place within the Nesti circle.> He paused, allowing the emperor’s mother to comment, but she said nothing, to his relief. Coin was a touchy subject with her. And the shapeshifter was not yet where he needed her to be. <Mater-Imperia, Coin is the only living shapeshifter capable not only of becoming either gender, but of completely hiding all gnosis traces. She will replace the real Cera and move the Nesti away from the shihad. Civil war will ensue, and the surviving Rimoni will have no choice but to turn to the Dorobon legions to preserve them.>

He took a mental breath and went on, <I have other agents gathering to infiltrate the Nesti and place Coin, as Cera, on the throne. I will be operating inside Brochena myself. You could best aid me by keeping Betillon and Korion off my back. I will deliver you Javon, I swear.>

The Mater-Imperia was silent for some time, considering. <Magister Gyle, I have said that I will back your plans and so I shall> she said finally. <I remain greatly angered, but if you can eliminate Anborn and replace Cera Nesti, I will consider our contract still valid. If you fail, however, there is nowhere you will be able to hide from me.>

<I understand, Majesty. I will not fail.>

<Good. Betillon has burnt out most of his communication-rods ranting about your failures, so we will barely be able to communicate with you again until the Crusade has begun and we are re-established on Dhassan soil. We will await your notification of success eagerly.>

He sent his gratitude wordlessly.

<Also, Magister Gyle, I have this demand: take the woman Elena Anborn alive and send her to me. She will regret her treachery.> Mater-Imperia’s mental voice would have corroded steel.

<As you command, Mater-Imperia.>

<There is one last thing: I must bow somewhat to the wishes of my son. He is anxious. He is sending a man of his own. You will have heard of Inquisition Grandmaster Fraxis Targon?>

Damn. .>