Read Online Dangerous Waters by Juliet E. McKenna - Free Book Online
Authors: Juliet E. McKenna
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battlefield than a necromancer?’
Jilseth smiled sweetly as Ely recoiled from the notion. Let that put paid to her questions.
Instead the magewoman surprised her with another abrupt change of subject. ‘There are rumours of magic other than wizardry influencing Lescar’s wars.’ Ely sipped her pale wine.
‘Artifice.’ Jilseth wondered where this turn of their conversation might lead.
‘Is it true?’ Ely asked with sudden anger. ‘These ragtag rebels were using some purloined lore to send messages to one another, as easily as you and I sit talking here? While the dukes were left to make do with courier doves and despatch riders?’
Jilseth’s glass of syllabub arrived. She was glad of the interruption giving her time to consider her reply. Whatever she said to Ely would go straight to Master Kalion’s ear and then into the gossip swirling around Hadrumal.
‘Artifice, that’s to say, aetheric magic, is hardly purloined lore,’ she said carefully. ‘This magic of the mind was well understood in the Old Tormalin Empire and our own archivists have been helping those mainland scholars who are trying to piece it back together.’
Since, as Jilseth had heard Planir say more than once, as long as Hadrumal was helping the curious academics in the universities of Vanam and Col, then the wizards would know exactly how studies of this entirely separate magic progressed. Of late, he was pleased to say, the scholars’ understanding of the ways in which Artifice might enable one adept to speak to another’s mind or to see or hear through another’s eyes was advancing imperfectly and very slowly.
The more advanced enchantments continued to elude them; where aetheric magic could supposedly influence the physical world through the concentration of thought achieved through the recitation of arcane rhymes. If only they could fathom the underlying principles which the ancient adepts had followed when devising those resonant phrases, the scholars lamented.
‘Our fellow mages in Suthyfer are also working with aetheric adepts,’ Jilseth pointed out, ‘comparing and contrasting their respective magics.’
‘Entirely typical of those ingrates and malcontents, sharing our secrets with would-be Artificers who owe our traditions no allegiance.’ Ely looked through the open door at the Element Master and Archmage still deep in conversation. ‘That’s hardly the worst of it. The Hearth Master says that the Emperor of Tormalin has his lackeys searching every noble house’s archive for any hint of such lore. He talks of granting a new university its charter to draw every scrap of such learning together. We cannot ignore such an affront to Hadrumal’s standing!’
She seemed genuinely offended, not merely reflecting the Hearth Master’s ire.
‘As I understand it, Emperor Tadriol has talked of founding this new university for the last five years,’ Jilseth observed. ‘No stone’s yet been set atop another. Can you think of a city which would welcome a congress of Aetheric adepts, any more than their forefathers welcomed Archmage Trydek when he sought a refuge for the mageborn?’
‘That could change in a heartbeat,’ Ely snapped, ‘when these so-called adepts of Artifice woo the mainland’s lords and princes with offers of magical assistance that owes no allegiance to the Archmage and is not subject to his authority. Who knows what other underhand means they might use? Sending suggestions into a sleeper’s dreams or strengthening a mere inclination into absolute conviction. You said yourself this is a magic of the mind.’
Jilseth was beginning to think she’d spent too much time away from Hadrumal of late. Was this fear and suspicion of Artifice gaining a foothold on the island? She had only thought it an oddity dredged up by the Lescari rebels. Any real understanding of aetheric magic had been lost in the collapse of the Old Tormalin Empire. Without its arcane enchantments, those noble houses had never been
Jilseth smiled sweetly as Ely recoiled from the notion. Let that put paid to her questions.
Instead the magewoman surprised her with another abrupt change of subject. ‘There are rumours of magic other than wizardry influencing Lescar’s wars.’ Ely sipped her pale wine.
‘Artifice.’ Jilseth wondered where this turn of their conversation might lead.
‘Is it true?’ Ely asked with sudden anger. ‘These ragtag rebels were using some purloined lore to send messages to one another, as easily as you and I sit talking here? While the dukes were left to make do with courier doves and despatch riders?’
Jilseth’s glass of syllabub arrived. She was glad of the interruption giving her time to consider her reply. Whatever she said to Ely would go straight to Master Kalion’s ear and then into the gossip swirling around Hadrumal.
‘Artifice, that’s to say, aetheric magic, is hardly purloined lore,’ she said carefully. ‘This magic of the mind was well understood in the Old Tormalin Empire and our own archivists have been helping those mainland scholars who are trying to piece it back together.’
Since, as Jilseth had heard Planir say more than once, as long as Hadrumal was helping the curious academics in the universities of Vanam and Col, then the wizards would know exactly how studies of this entirely separate magic progressed. Of late, he was pleased to say, the scholars’ understanding of the ways in which Artifice might enable one adept to speak to another’s mind or to see or hear through another’s eyes was advancing imperfectly and very slowly.
The more advanced enchantments continued to elude them; where aetheric magic could supposedly influence the physical world through the concentration of thought achieved through the recitation of arcane rhymes. If only they could fathom the underlying principles which the ancient adepts had followed when devising those resonant phrases, the scholars lamented.
‘Our fellow mages in Suthyfer are also working with aetheric adepts,’ Jilseth pointed out, ‘comparing and contrasting their respective magics.’
‘Entirely typical of those ingrates and malcontents, sharing our secrets with would-be Artificers who owe our traditions no allegiance.’ Ely looked through the open door at the Element Master and Archmage still deep in conversation. ‘That’s hardly the worst of it. The Hearth Master says that the Emperor of Tormalin has his lackeys searching every noble house’s archive for any hint of such lore. He talks of granting a new university its charter to draw every scrap of such learning together. We cannot ignore such an affront to Hadrumal’s standing!’
She seemed genuinely offended, not merely reflecting the Hearth Master’s ire.
‘As I understand it, Emperor Tadriol has talked of founding this new university for the last five years,’ Jilseth observed. ‘No stone’s yet been set atop another. Can you think of a city which would welcome a congress of Aetheric adepts, any more than their forefathers welcomed Archmage Trydek when he sought a refuge for the mageborn?’
‘That could change in a heartbeat,’ Ely snapped, ‘when these so-called adepts of Artifice woo the mainland’s lords and princes with offers of magical assistance that owes no allegiance to the Archmage and is not subject to his authority. Who knows what other underhand means they might use? Sending suggestions into a sleeper’s dreams or strengthening a mere inclination into absolute conviction. You said yourself this is a magic of the mind.’
Jilseth was beginning to think she’d spent too much time away from Hadrumal of late. Was this fear and suspicion of Artifice gaining a foothold on the island? She had only thought it an oddity dredged up by the Lescari rebels. Any real understanding of aetheric magic had been lost in the collapse of the Old Tormalin Empire. Without its arcane enchantments, those noble houses had never been
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