The Silence of Medair

Medair made a sharp movement with her head, and he nodded. "A woman such as this might even be worth the risk Vorclase took venturing into Finrathlar. Avahn is certainly not worth so much to the South."

"You’re right, Keridahl," Medair announced. "It does fit what facts you know, if somewhat imaginatively."

"And is not correct," he concluded.

"Not at all."

"A pity. I do, as you say, have a fondness for mysteries, but I can see no way to pursue this one. You leave on the morrow, Kel?"

"At dawn." Her tone warned him not to argue, but he made no attempt. Of course, she had little doubt that someone would be set to follow her, once she’d left Athere. But with her ward against traces and her ring of invisibility, she refused to be concerned.

"I still owe you a great debt," Cor-Ibis said.

"I sorrow for you."

She thought he smiled, and found that she wished she could see his expression. It was suddenly hard to believe that she would never see him again. She had saved his life, and he had – what?

"Is there anything I can do to help, Kel?" he asked. His voice was grave, genuinely concerned. Strangely young. "Captain Vorclase is a formidable man, and I cannot like leaving you undefended."

"He’d have to find me first," Medair said, off-balance. This didn’t feel like another ploy to extract her secrets.

"I fear he is quite capable of that. At the very least, do not forget the debts owed to you. Call on Palladium’s protection, if there is need."

"I will remember, Keridahl. But I don’t think there’ll be a need."

And still he didn’t go, just stood there in the dark looking at her. The hesitation was so out of character, she wondered if he were debating keeping her prisoner. But then he said: "As you wish, Kel."

His voice was oddly constrained, and he took a sudden step back, glancing at Athere’s lights. "You will speak to Avahn?" he asked, sounding more like himself.

Medair’s turn to hesitate. Then she shook her head. "Avahn is correct. He has wronged me. Perhaps in future he’ll be able to distinguish a person from a puzzle. But you may tell him that I lay the blame firmly at your door, if you wish."

"I will do that."

The Keridahl inclined his head in a gesture of sincere respect.

"Goodbye, Medair," he said, and walked away without a backward glance, leaving her staring in confusion after him. The ineffably correct Illukar las Cor-Ibis, using someone’s personal name without formally asking for it? She would sooner expect Jedda las Theomain to kiss her good morning.

It was a long time before Medair left the balcony, and half the night was gone before she succeeded in capturing sleep.

Chapter Fifteen

An oppressive, insubstantial weight pressed down on Medair’s chest, but was not there at all. Confused by dreams of a bellowing ocean, she blinked at the edge of light outlining the door to her room, trying to understand what she was feeling.

Magic. Someone, somewhere, was casting a spell of such immensity that it had woken her from sleep. She struggled from the tangle of sheets, and uncovered the mageglow. A few moments to dress, then she opened the door to her room.

Light blazed in the Cor-Ibis apartments, and Medair could see knots of people in various states of undress gathered together in the large area beyond the empty sitting room adjoining her hallway. She ignored them, turning left to her balcony once again. South. It was in the south.

Sensing magic was like smelling colour. Indefinable and impossible to adequately explain. It came in pulses, flashes, waves and, as with her charm against traces, steady hums. Like noise, it grew fainter the further it travelled. What Medair felt was distant, impossibly distant. Her limited abilities would allow her to sense a truly strong spell within Athere’s limits, but not much more. An adept such as Cor-Ibis would be able to sense powerful magic a dozen miles away. Without being able to say why, Medair knew that what she sensed originated at a much greater distance than that.

"Impossibly strong," said a soft, awed voice. Ileaha joined Medair, her eyes fixed on the southern horizon. "It’s been building for half a decem, according to Avahn. The entire city’s awake. Even those with no trace of mage gift know something’s wrong."

"I’ve never felt anything like it. Not even rahlstone enhanced spells have this effect."

Ileaha shifted restlessly. "They’re attempting to scry," she said. "Cor-Ibis, the Kier, Keridahl Antellar. No-one’s willing to guess what they’ll see, if they manage it. It’s as if the AlKier has descended upon Farakkan."

"Beyond the scope of mortals."

"Yes. I can’t imagine anyone, not Cor-Ibis, not every adept in the city, casting this. Beyond the scope of mortals."