The Silence of Medair

Hoping Avahn had been about to say "…or he will raise the alarm," not "…or he’ll lecture me when I return," Medair pushed chairs out of the way. Heart pounding, she positioned Avahn in a clear corner of the kitchen, then put a chair carefully over the top of him. The jingle of stirrup and bridle told her the riders were dismounting and it was tempting to just turn invisible and run. But she couldn’t leave him. And here she’d been planning for the Ibisians to protect her, not the other way around.

Her hand darted into her satchel, selecting a long silvery cord. Measuring it doubtfully, she repositioned Avahn on his side, drawing his knees up and tucking his arms in. Then, with frantic haste, she lay the cord out in a circle around her, the chair and Avahn. The metal locking mechanism slid together with a firm click and she was rewarded with a surge of power, both visible and tangible. A shield-wall, much like the one Cor-Ibis had almost killed himself summoning, but hers was far more enduring. Safe.

She let her breath out as a voice outside called caution. And so they should. The contents of her satchel might not be able to give her what she wanted, but they made her dangerous. After checking Avahn again, she planted herself firmly on the chair, folded her arms and waited, listening to their progress. They wouldn’t know that the source of the power surge was defensive magic, or that Avahn was unconscious. They would come in expecting every kind of attack.

She wondered what arcane weapons Avahn could produce at need, what set-spells he would have drawn upon if only he hadn’t been unconscious. It had been an elegant little trap. If the woman had pressed the water on them, if she had stayed to watch them drink, had not offered it as a carefully orchestrated afterthought, they would have been more suspicious. Medair sighed, feeling terribly vulnerable despite her resources. If, if, if.

A door at the back of the house burst open and something bounced across the floor, exploding with a dull blue flash. Behind her shield-wall, Medair couldn’t sense the power which might be involved. Presuming they still wanted her alive, it was probably some sort of sleep. She watched it dissipate, wishing she’d run.

Flanked by two stocky female warriors, the mage she had first seen on Bariback Mountain trailed the tossed spell into the room. The sight of her, leaning back on her chair in a half-globe of glimmering power, stopped them short. The women looked to the mage, who gestured them into a guard position. Then the front door was opened less violently and the rest of the Decians entered the room, weapons at ready.

"A spell shield, Captain," the mage said, moving towards them.

"So I see, Cerden," Captain Vorclase replied. He looked from Medair to Avahn, curled at her feet. "Can you break it?"

"I can try…" The mage hesitated, then met his Captain’s flat black eyes. "But you can feel its strength as well as I. Farak’s Teeth, they can probably feel it in the centre of Finrathlar! We could chip at that for a year without making a dint."

"Well, well." Vorclase didn’t seem particularly perturbed. He circled around Medair, then tested the shield with the back of his fingers. There was a faint hiss, and he jerked away quickly. Kel las Raithen and her daughter emerged from upstairs and his eyes flicked toward them, then back to Medair.

"Introductions are in order, I think," he said and bowed, short and sharp. "I am Captain Jan Vorclase, of His Majesty King Xarus Estarion’s armies. May I have the honour of your name?"

"Medair ar Corleaux," she replied, uncrossing and recrossing her arms. The posture helped to hide her trembling.

"Truly a great pleasure to catch up with you at last, Miss ar Corleaux. It has been quite a chase."

"I would be very glad to know why you take such an interest." She was pleased there was no quaver in her voice. Calm and in control: it was important to make them believe it.

"Would you? Speaking of assuaging curiosity, tell me, Miss ar Corleaux, what is a Medarist doing travelling in the company of White Snakes?"

"Getting away from you, for a start."

"I’m sorry to have driven you to such an association. Has it occurred to you that we need only wait until you are driven to us by hunger and thirst?"

"What, in a decem?" She smiled at him unpleasantly. "This spell-shield would be enough to attract the Keridahl’s attention, even if Avahn had not sent a wend-whisper. I can’t see any troops he sends taking more than a decem to get here." She cocked her head toward Melani. "If you are going to pretend to twist your ankle, you might consider some visible swelling."

"She’s bluffing," said the Mersian, coming forward to glower at Medair. He seemed to have recovered from being hit on the head.