Chapter 2 – Empire Mage
"Just what do we know of empire mages?" Elspeth sat in one of the smaller council chambers, exhausted after a frantic, two day ride back to Haven. Queen and Council were demanding answers, and all she had was questions. Cursing herself for not ensuring at least one Herald-mage was always on duty in Haven did no good. Alliance business had drawn so many to Hardorn, Karse or the Dorisha Plains, but that was no excuse. Blinder-sided, she thought ruefully. Herald Evan looked little better, she noted. The Herald carefully laid a slim stack of papers before her.
"Not enough, I'm afraid. King Tremane sent this, and is sending Sejanes up from Hardorn as quickly as the old man can Gate here. It will take some time, as they haven't any active nodes near Shonar. The Empire apparently maintained a corps of several elite castes of mages at the capital, and at key points within its borders. Mages capable of rebuilding Gates quickly after the mage storms passed through. A few could even hold them in place through some of the earlier, milder storms." He hesitated. "There were also rumors of a secret program, created under the Emperor Charliss' sanction, to extend and develop new mage powers. There was no proof, and Sejanes had discarded it to rumor, until we sent a full description of our…visitors."
"No one mage could –" Elspeth's face was doubtful.
Evan raised a hand. "No one mage did. Remember, the empire's mages are trained to work together, in small groups, to build and sustain gates at need. That skill is still beyond us.
She nodded thoughtfully. "Has been done, can be done. The problem is time."
The Herald shook his head. "This "gating," if you will, was different, Princess. Even working in teams, Sejanes isn't aware of any empire mages could have gated this far, even working in concert."
Elspeth eyed the stack of papers, frowned, then pulled it closer and began reading. "This place – Granite Isle? Where is it?"
"It was a seacoast town halfway down the gulf to the Eastern Sea. Officially, it was abandoned decades ago. Extremely isolated." Evan unrolled a map and pointed. "At least six months' journey by horse and through the Southern Sea."
Elspeth stared, incredulous at the map. "So far." She whispered. "How? More important – Why?" She needed answers. The Queen needed answers. "We've Heralds with Farsight here?"
"Not that can See that far. I've called in Lanier from the field, but he's days away yet."
Only one place, then, to get the answers. And one best way. "Talia?"
"In Karsite. Her Holiness asked for her."
Well then. Intelligence was still needed, Elspeth thought grimly. And there was another answer for that too.
Alberich studied the quiet, green clad woman seated in the garden and winced in unexpected sympathy. Her hands and arms were swathed in bandages, but he still could remember the pain of his own burns even after so many years. Her eyes were glazed with pain-killing herbs the healers had doused her with. They hadn't done more because she'd locked them out. And her mind-shields were still locked tight against his questing probe, even in sleep.
He moved forward into the quiet space around her. "So, Kahlen. Talk to me today you will." For a wonder, she met his eyes. Flash of heat like a stooping hawk. She nodded cautiously. Reason? To soon to hope, it was.
"Melliorae Joss'ren?" She asked, then shook her head impatiently "Josseran? He's well?"
"Better. His arm mending is." The Queen's Intelligencer eased onto the stone bench and nodded to the guards to step back. Their prisoner – guest? - looked a little better today.
"Came you, your comrade, here. No harm meant you, I think, but the why of it we must know. And words we must share, mind to mind, that the knowing be true." He touched his forehead, then gestured toward her, waiting.
She looked away, her face remote, then lowered her shields a trifle. :You I will tell. Then to let me go. Not to tell Joss'ren. Harm enough we wrought him, Sethren and I. Not to do more. We never learned if it was a made thing, or a thing of the storms, found by mischance. But the emperor's lifemakers – a flash of hatred accompanied that word - took it to study and make a weapon made of it, could such a thing be done. Granite was - small, apart from the Empire, save by the Gates. Sethren -: Her mind faltered, drew back into a black, grieving keening that made his throat ache.
Abruptly, she shut him out, began to speak in hesitant Common, her voice low, husky. "In the Granite slave pens did Sethren find me. My training – had not gone well. They meant me for a battle mage. I'd proved too troublesome." She grew silent. Her right hand went to her left arm, rubbed it in growing distress, and for a moment he thought she'd refuse to say more. "Sethren took me for the Gates instead, trained and brought me into his Ward. Three seasons did I serve with him. Then ordered were we gates to build, for the Empire, to hold through the storms. That, I could do. When the storms ended to Granite we were sent, to cordon the isle and prevent any from leaving, save by the Emperor's will."
She stood suddenly, and began to pace in growing agitation. "We made the Gates, unknowing, that the Emperor's I'nadazi could be about their work. Then – Sethren learned a thing. Not to believe. Beyond the Gates, to Granite streets we went then, to see it was not so…we did not know! That such a thing could be. That slaves there were used for the plague, tested, infected, made to endure or die as fate had it. Slaves die, in the Empire." And Alberich saw. People dying, first tens then hundreds, staggering out of the slave compounds to fall into the streets. Spreading to the town's populace, a wasting sickness that strangled the breath, destroyed the lungs. So fast! And the gates closed, held fast against any who came to save family and friends, or for darker purpose, to gather the deadly fruit of that harvest. Blood born? In the air? He couldn't tell.
"A made thing, it was." She said quietly. "In our blood they had made it, weapon and defense both, to spread or to quell at need. Before I was taken for the gates, they'd made it. And tested in on many, seeking the means to counter it at need."
"The infusion you gave Josseran." Alberich said quietly. She nodded, eyes closed, exhausted.
"Inborn it was, or made by the I'nadazi – the lifemakers – I do not know. To teach the body to fight the plague. To Valdemar they will bring it, if they can. Lest Valdemar brings again the mage storms, if they can find or make the counter treatment. So. Sethren brought us here, when the last gate broke. To give warning." Her eyes met his, bleak, exhausted. Afraid. Hiding something.
"Valdemar did not create the mage storms." He said it firmly. "Nor our allies. From the past they came, down through time. Stopped them did the Alliance, before more damage they did."
"Too late to stop the making of this -." She whispered unsteadily, eyes downcast. "Sethren died of it. And our gate-brothers, I think. Morrelan and Drisae. To keep it from the lifemakers…Granite is gone," she choked on that word, "into the fires, no more to breed such a thing. But if elsewhere it was taken, it may yet come. Slaves are cheap, in the empire." That, bitterly. She turned to face him, exhausted, her mind open again to the truth of what she'd said. "So, Valdemaran. What will you do to meet it?"
"I know not." He said at length. "But no slaves there are in Valdemar. Leave you cannot, but fear us you need not."
A brittle laugh escaped her, and her dark, amethyst eyes went to the guards, then away.
Alberich gestured gently toward her maimed hands. "Will you let the healers tend these, now?"
"No." That, a faint whisper. She sat there quietly long after he left. Queen's man. Warrior still, despite his years. Honorable? At least he'd not tried to breech her mindshields. But I cannot trust him, she thought wearily. Demon rider? Perhaps. But she'd served the empire too long to trust in any King or Emperor – and healers – never again. In careless hands, this secret would eat the world. The boy was safe at least, her word to Sethren redeemed.
I can't gate out of here. She reached for gateforce, felt for the channels – and almost screamed at the pain that lashed through her hands. And it was in her blood, mage-gift and plague together. I may be the last – and it has to end now, before courtesy ends. There are mage-gifted healers here – if any are true lifemakers - and these people fear the Empire. Healers made this thing.
She thought of Zethren, and her heart broke. Firechild, he'd named her. Not for the mage-gift that gave her power of the gates. For the other gift. And that she would share with no one. Fire kills it, she thought unsteadily. I can't shield much longer. Kind they have been, but when need presses, then what? She thought of Granite, and felt curiously light-headed. She did not resist when the guards came, to return her to her rooms.
"Kahlen?" Joss hesitated before coming into the room. Both guards were behaving - oddly. Neither acknowledged him as he passed, holding the small platter of fruit balanced clumsily on his good arm. A comfortable room, at least. He worried about the dark eyed woman who'd kept him trapped, helpless, in Companion's Field for three days. Not eating well, Healer Kevran had said. And Alberich had questioned her this morning. Joss shivered.
He'd been confined to the Healer's wing for almost a week now, and they were still trying to glean sense out of the brief images he'd seen of the place the strangers had come from, and the disaster that had driven them here. Gated here, if any of the rumors were true. His arm itched horribly, but at least the plaster cast gave him some freedom of movement. Enough for simple tasks like this, and she seemed to trust him. To like him, even. Healer Kevren had let him bring her meals yesterday, and she'd even smiled at him. He set the platter down, then called again, hopefully. No one answered.
The guard eye's focused slowly on the boy, and he stumbled as Joss shook him urgently. "How long have you been on duty here?"
"I - a few minutes..." The sun had moved, though. The guard woke fully, shaking off lethargy. His legs cramped. His companion groaned, slid to the floor and looked blearily at the boy. "Mid-morning. We came on duty at mid-morning."
"Well she's gone." Josseran said tersely. The first guard cursed then leapt into the small suite searching. He turned, but the boy was already running down the hall.
Alberich glanced irritably at the chamber door as herald-trainee and healer entered, arguing. "Sir, Kahlen's gone." The boy said tensely. "The guards - she did something to them." The Queen's Intelligencer frowned, rising slowly.
"Where, think you? What mischief this?"
Kevran looked troubled. "We dosed her this morning to clean the burns. The herbs should have made her sleep. Her hands are better, but I didn't think -"
"Escaped?" He said harshly.
"No." Josseran's voice shook. "I told you - she wanted to go. To keep the plague out of the empire's hands. Out of anyone's hands."
Kahlen leaned back against the pine, watching the sun drop slowly toward the horizon. She'd found the river, had sat quietly under the pines while the cold crept into her hands and feet and heart. It eased the burns, some. The sand bar here forced the river to turn, forming a small cove where storms had piled enough drifted wood for her needs. Her refuge was well hidden for the short time she'd need it. The nearby trees might burn, but the river would contain it. Her forehead rested on her knees, arms wrapped loosely around her legs. I'm so tired. And it doesn't matter. She'd fought this for days, but no other answer served. And her hands had healed enough for one last effort.
She couldn't reach the empire, even if she'd been mad enough to try. No hiding place there would be safe, save perhaps the wreckage she'd left at Granite. And nothing could survive there – she'd may sure of that. The Empire was mad, to have made this thing. She couldn't Gate into the Void – the channels were still too raw, or so the healers had told her. Truth, or a politic lie to keep her trapped here? But she could feel the damage, the channels that had tamed the power flows as burned and charred as her poor hands. And not healing, because she dared not let healers touch them, who might touch other things. Healers couldn't be trusted. Granite would be only the beginning, not the end. I can't save myself. Zethren chose at Granite, to keep this thing trapped there, if we died of it. Morrelan and Drisae did no less. And I have no other way to keep it trapped. Her arms were wet with tears. I didn't think it would be this hard. She'd wanted to trust the quiet, scar-faced man who'd questioned her this morning. She could not trust these people. Dared not.
There were distant voices, calling frantically to each other across the river and there was no more time. Fire kills it. Gods. She swiped angrily at her eyes, then peeled away the bandages binding her hands. And called the fire.
The water shocked her back to awareness. Something dragged her, hard against the freezing current. :No, Chosen. Not yet, and not alone.: Stone scrapped her back, then brushed against her damaged hands. A scream tore from her throat. :Chosen, let me in. Let me help. Kahlen!: Something flowed over her hands, numbed them. She opened eyes blind with pain, felt it lessen, draw back. Light, cool and mild flowed over her arms and face, washing away the worst of it. Enough to bring a moment's relief. A blue light washed across her eyes, luring them open. And pain vanished, and fear, and the empty, aching void where Zethren's death had left her. :I am Rand, Chosen. I will not leave you. I will not let you go. And no one here will make a weapon of you. You are ours, now, firechild. Only breathe. Stay with me.: