Darkness Descending

“Why would we want to do such a wasteful thing as that?” King Swemmel said.

“If any of them make it back to their own land and tell the truth about what the Algarvians are doing to them, don’t you think Forthweg might rise against Mezentio?” Rathar asked.

“Maybe, but then again maybe not,” the king replied. “Forthwegians love Kaunians hardly better than the redheads.” Swemmel shrugged. “We suppose it might be worth a try. And it would embarrass Mezentio, which is all to the good. Aye, you have our leave to do it.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Something new occurred to Rathar. “If the Algarvians slaughter their thousands for the sake of sorcery and we slaughter as many to stop them, the war will come down to soldier against soldier once more. I wonder if Mezentio thought of that before he set this fire.”

“We do not care,” King Swemmel said. “Whatever fires he sets, we shall set bigger ones.”

Try as she would, Pekka could not enjoy the Principality. She knew Master Siuntio had meant nothing but kindness when he booked her into Yliharma’s finest hostel after calling her to the capital. But she would have come to the capital whether he’d summoned her or not. The cold fear and horror in her would have pushed her out of Kajaani.

She hadn’t been the only mage riding the ley-line caravan north to Yliharma.

She’d spotted three or four other women and men with set, worried faces. They’d nodded when they saw her and then gone back to their private woes, which were, no doubt, much like hers.

But Siuntio had arranged to have the Seven Princes of Kuusamo also gather in Yliharma. Pekka could not have done that on her own. She was glad the Seven Princes took the business as seriously as their mages did. She’d been far from sure they would.

A knock on the door sent her hurrying to open it. There in the hallway stood Siuntio. “A good day to you,” he said, bowing. “I have a carriage waiting to take us to the princely palace. Ilmarinen will ride with us, too, unless he’s gone off chasing a barmaid while I came up to get you.”

“Master Siuntio, you didn’t need to come here to bring me to the palace,” Pekka said sternly. “I could have found my own way. I intended to find my own way.

“I wanted the three of us to come before the Seven Princes together,” the elderly theoretical sorcerer answered. “Prince Joroinen, I know, has been keeping his colleagues apprised of our progress, when we have any. If we join together in a show of alarm, it will have weight for all of the Seven.”

“You flatter me beyond my worth,” Pekka said. His face as serious as she’d ever seen it, Siuntio shook his head. Flustered, she turned and took a thick wool cloak from the cabinet that stood in the little entry hall. As she settled it on her shoulders, she spoke in a rough voice to cover her own embarrassment: “Let’s go, then.”

When she got downstairs, she discovered Siuntio hadn’t been joking. Ilmarinen was chatting up a pretty young woman whose slanted eyes, swarthy skin, and broad cheekbones were all Kuusaman, but who had auburn hair far more typical of a Lagoan. He blew her a kiss as he went off to join Siuntio and Pekka. “Just making certain she’s not a spy sent out from Setubal,” he said airily.

“Of course you were,” Siuntio answered. “I’m certain you intended to probe her very deeply.”

Ilmarinen started to nod, but Pekka’s giggle told him he’d missed something. After a heartbeat, he gave Siuntio a dirty look. “You think you’re funny,” he growled. “I think you’re in your second childhood, is what I think.”

“I almost wish I were,” Siuntio said. “Then I could have gone on living my life instead of screaming like a man on the rack at the supper table a few days ago. I alarmed the whole eatery, but not so badly as I alarmed myself.”

Ilmarinen grimaced. “Aye, it was bad,” he said. Pekka nodded. The memory of that moment would stay with her all her days. Ilmarinen sighed and went on, “We’d best be at it. The wench will wait. This business won’t.”

Chill air smote Pekka as she and Siuntio and Ilmarinen left the warmth of the Principality. A little snow lay on the sidewalks and in the streets of Yliharma. It was half melted and gray with soot. Kajaani lay on the southern side of the Vaattojarvi Hills. It took the full brunt of the storms rolling up from the land of the Ice People. The snow there was unlikely to melt till spring.

Horses’ hooves clopping, the carriage bore the three mages to the princely palace. It stood on the highest ground in Yliharma, having begun its history as a hill fort centuries before the Kaunians crossed the Strait of Valmiera farther west. Savants still dug below the far more splendid buildings gracing the hilltop these days, and sometimes came up with fascinating finds.

“What sort of man is Prince Rustolainen?” Pekka asked. “Living down in the south, I hear less of him than I’d like.”