War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) (33 page)

Heat shimmered above patchy sun-scorched lawns. Small swarms of insects hovered, buzzed and hummed over clumps and ranks of tired overblown flowers. Like a baker’s oven door opening, hot air washed over Karryl as he moved out of the dense shade provided by the porticoed cloister. Initiating a cooling spell, the young Mage-Prime set off at a brisk pace across the dry grass towards the barracks. Despite seemingly endless days and hours of talking and reading, and the frequent use of appropriately named Locator spells, the two magicians were no further forward in their efforts to discover what or where the other missing piece might be. Leaving Symon in the cool comfort of his study, Karryl felt the time had come to bring the problem to fresh eyes and a mind equally as sharp as his own.

Apparently unperturbed by the midsummer heat, Kimi, clad in well worn soft leather trousers and sleeveless jerkin, had a small squad of soldiers sitting cross-legged on the hard ground while he instructed them in some subject which few of them seemed to find fascinating. Acknowledging Karryl’s approach with a brief nod of his fearsomely tattooed head, he carried on talking, his sing-song tones carrying up into the over-heated air. Hands folded inside the wide sleeves of his robe, Karryl waited. Only minutes later, Kimi, ever mindful of the welfare of troops less skilled and hardy than himself, dismissed the squad. As they hurried off to find somewhere shady, Kimi trotted lightly across to where Karryl waited.

The wiry Ingali hill-ranger stood beside him, looking into the far distance as he spoke. “Is good to see you Master Karryl. Many long weeks since. I think you not come to chit-chat.” He gave an assertive nod, as if Karryl had already confirmed his assumption.

The magician gave a wry smile. “We need a fresh mind to look at a problem.”

His facial tattoos seeming to writhe in the heat, Kimi looked up, flashing small white teeth in a brief and rarely seen grin as he patted the top of his head. “Fresh mind! Ha! Brain cooked. We go indoors.”

The interior of Kimi’s tiny hut was only marginally cooler, but the dim interior gave some impression of relief from the heat. Seated cross-legged on a colourful mat half-covering the bare plank floor, the Ingali gestured to the single chair. Karryl sat.

Spreading his hands wide, palms upwards, Kimi cocked his head to one side. “What is problem?”

Karryl decided to get straight to the point. “A vital piece of a puzzle is missing. The trouble is we don’t know what it looks like. All we can discover is that it may well be in the hands of a race called the Mirikani.”

Kimi’s head jerked up. “Mirikani! Jackals. Snakes. Thieves!”

Somewhat taken aback by Kimi’s vehemence, Karryl stared at the Ingali prince. “Can’t say I’m over-fond of them, but …thieves? What did they steal? Anything important or is it just in their nature to steal?”

Tattoos seemed to flow and writhe as Kimi gave his visitor a long hard look. “I only know what elders tell. Mirikani thieves long ago cause much trouble. Maybe change history.”

Something began to tickle the edge of Karryl’s brain. Leaning forward in his chair, he urged Kimi to continue. Despite the heat, the tale of theft and betrayal that the Ingali prince told him chilled him to the core.

Like a huge tropical fruit, the summer sun was hanging over the horizon when Kimi ended his tale. Almost from the first words the Ingali hill-ranger uttered, a tide of mixed emotions had been ebbing and flowing within the young Mage-Prime. Now he sat, hands clasped in front of him, all kinds of possible scenarios and implications jostling for position in his mind. He knew he had to move, to begin the search for the remaining artefact. The thought of it prodded at the knot in his stomach, a goad to which, although he was reluctant to admit it, he was unwilling to respond. Like a thick blanket, silence hung heavily between Ingali prince and Mage, as Kimi’s unwavering gaze lingered on Karryl’s troubled face. Sensing the torment inside the young man, Kimi sat quietly watching and waiting. It was some tense moments later that Karryl finally looked up from contemplation of his folded hands.

His dark eyes held a haunted look. “I hardly know what to make of this.” His brow furrowed. “At the risk of offending you, why didn’t you tell us this before now?”

The Ingali hill-ranger slowly lifted one dark, narrow eyebrow. “Not know you want to know. All old history, very old. Means little now.”

Biting back a retort, instead Karryl murmured “It may well mean everything.”

Quickly calming himself, he still failed to completely quell the irritation in his voice. “I
did
need to know, Symon needs to know, Magnor needs to know. And had we known all this a month or more ago, many lives would not now be in danger.”

Releasing a long breath in a ragged sigh, he pushed himself up from his chair. Hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his robe he began to pace the limited confines of Kimi’s hut.

Abruptly he ceased his pacing, stopping to look earnestly down at Kimi, still seated cross-legged on the hard-packed floor. “I have to leave, my friend. It is already late and although time has always been our enemy, it now ranks first and foremost.”

Kimi looked up, his expression thoughtful. “Talk of Mirikani stir things in own memory.” In one simple fluid movement, the Ingali rose to his feet. “Please to wait a little longer.”

The last deep ruddy rays of the setting sun glowered through the tiny window as Kimi crossed the room, almost disappearing in the deep shadow of a corner. Unable to see what the diminutive hill-ranger was doing, Karryl attuned his ears to a series of soft clicks and rustling noises. A brief silence was broken by a barely audible sigh. Emerging from the darkened corner, Kimi moved to stand in the last remaining patch of lurid light. Palm upwards, he held out his hand towards Karryl. The Mage-Prime stared at the object nestled in Kimi’s slightly cupped hand. Heart pounding, he reached out and, between finger and thumb, carefully lifted the tiny decorated Mirikani box from its place in Kimi’s palm.

Karryl’s voice trembled slightly. “How long have you had this?”

Raising both hands in a non-committal gesture, Kimi gave a little shrug. “In family many generations. Was one of pair, but other lost long ago.”

Karryl’s excitement refused to be curbed a moment longer. “No! Not lost Kimi. Master Symon has it. I only hope he can remember where he put it!”

The Ingali prince nodded. “This one also yours now. Maybe belong with other.”

With a brief smile and a nod of acknowledgement, Karryl headed for the open door, now a rectangle of cool dusk, and hurried out into the dark softness of the summer night. Only then did the thought occur to him.

Turning on his heel, he called back through the open door. “Kimi, do you know how to open this?”

Kimi stepped forward into the doorway and shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe not open. No instruction given.”

Acknowledging his reply with a brief nod, Karryl tucked Kimi’s unexpected gift into the pocket of his robe. As the last soft hues of evening gave way to the darker shades of night, the young Mage-Prime stood still. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and visualised Symon’s study. From the darkened interior of his hut, Kimi pensively watched a spiral of blue and silver motes dwindle swiftly into the warm night air. For once in his life, the tattooed Ingali hill-ranger felt a twinge of apprehension.

Close to losing his patience, Karryl raised his hands in the air. “What do you mean; you can’t remember where you put it? It must be somewhere in the store-room. Isn’t that where you put everything?”

Shaking his head, Symon pressed a forefinger against his pursed lips. “Not always. I sometimes wait until I have a few things, then I gather them up and put them all away at the same time.”

Karryl released a deep, long-suffering sigh. “So, can you remember where or when you last saw it? It isn’t
that
long ago, after all.”

The little magician scowled. He could feel his irritation rising. “It’s over two years, nearly three in fact. And if you recall, we had accumulated a considerable number of other artefacts by the time we got back. How do you expect me to keep track of one very tiny and, at the time insignificant, box?”

Karryl strode over to the window and flung it wide, letting in the scents and sounds of a mid-summer night. He looked up at the star-strewn sky. Somewhere up there an astral conjunction was nearing completion. The spectre of failure mocked him from the darkness. He turned away to see Symon watching him. The little magician looked so perplexed Karryl almost felt sorry for him.

The moment passed and he walked slowly across the room to plonk himself down in the chair opposite. “Well, have you remembered?”

Symon gave him a flat stare. “D’you think I’d be sitting here if I had?”

It was not what Karryl wanted to hear, but he knew Symon’s words were undeniable. Even the vestige of an idea would have immediately spurred his old mentor into a flurry of furious activity. Elbows on the arms of his chair, Karryl folded his hands under his chin and lapsed into a long and thoughtful silence. The two magicians sat facing each other like a pair of bookends.

Eventually Karryl spoke. “Are you absolutely sure we’ve looked everywhere?” He glanced at the water-clock. “We are down to hours now.” Shaking his head in disbelief, he glared at Symon. “How could you let this happen?”

Symon’s cool grey gaze rested on Karryl’s obvious agitation. “Neither of us even realised at the time that it would prove to be of such significance. All I am certain of is that I packed it in with the other things we picked up on our travels, and as you know, we’ve been all through those.”

Karryl’s expression froze. “We didn’t look through
everything
though, did we? Just the boxes we knew the stuff was stored in. Suppose some of it was put somewhere else for whatever reason, and forgotten.” He sprang out of his chair. “We have to go and look again.”

Symon remained seated, his usual enthusiasm for such ventures noticeably lacking. “I doubt if I could be of much help. Quite frankly I think you’re wasting your time. I think I’ll just have a nap here.” He glanced across at the open window. “It’ll be daylight soon. I’ll have some breakfast ready for you when you get back.”

* * *

In contrast to the neat orderliness of the apartment, the store-room, illuminated by a small Light of Perimus hovering by Karryl’s right shoulder, gave an impression of disorderly clutter. Boxes were piled on and beside each other, as they had been when he helped Symon find the amulets, leaving little room to move between them. However, there was an order amongst the apparent chaos, and with his magical light sailing obligingly along beside him, Karryl headed straight for a stack of variously sized boxes pushed against the far wall. Arms folded and eyes closed, he stood in front of the stack letting images flow through his mind. He remembered helping Symon lift smaller boxes away from the very large one at the bottom, which they searched first. As that one was finished with, it was closed, the next one placed on top, opened and searched. Four boxes, three medium sized and one smaller one were taken down, carefully searched and replaced on top of the larger one. Karryl recalled Symon’s reply when he had asked him how many boxes had been searched.

Somewhat dejected and very tired, the little magician had wagged a dismissive hand. “All four. They’ve all been delved into and the contents examined. The Mirikani box must be somewhere else.”

Realisation rang in Karryl’s mind like a tenor bell. Opening his eyes, he counted the boxes stacked in front of him. Then, although he knew he had it right the first time, he did it again. Including the big one at the bottom there were…five! One of them had been taken off the stack ready to be searched, but instead had remained unopened and eventually put back onto the stack. Deciding not to waste time trying to figure out how it had happened or who was responsible, Karryl cast a spell of ‘open all locks’, took down the smallest chest from the top of the stack, and lifted the lid. Having no recollection of seeing the contents recently, he removed each artefact one by one and placed them carefully to one side, until the chest was empty. There was no tiny Mirikani box. After returning the contents he placed the chest behind him and began searching the next one. As meticulous in his search with the others as he was with the first, he was more than ready for breakfast when Symon wandered in to check on progress.

The little magician sidled past the stack of searched chests to peer round Karryl’s shoulder. “All done then? You see, I thought it would be a waste of time.”

Karryl gestured to the large chest which had served as a table for the others. “No; just this one to do now. I thought we might have missed one, but I saw you checking this, so it seems we didn’t. I’ll check it again anyway.”

Pushing closer, Symon peered at the chest, then pointed to one slightly larger and more ornate, sitting on its own next to the stack. “I did
that
one. I never checked this one. I thought you did.”

The two magicians grinned at each other and lifted the lid. Karryl stared into the chest, Symon’s gasp and chuckle hardly registering in his mind. He eased the heavy lid back on its hinges, then reached in as if doubting the tangibility of what he was seeing. Symon’s intermittent bursts of chuckling finally registered.

Disappointed and frustrated, Karryl snapped “I don’t see what’s so funny. Look!”

Plunging both hands into the chest, he hauled out the topmost item of the pile and held it up. “Robes? A chest full of robes?” Shaking out the one he was holding, he measured it against himself. “And by the look of it, they’re yours!”

Karryl peered in at the rest of the contents, then gave Symon a sidelong glance. “Would you mind telling me what you’ve been doing? There must be at least two dozen robes in there. Do they have sentimental value or something?”

Symon hoisted himself onto the flat lid of a nearby trunk. His feet dangling four inches above the floor, he folded his tiny hands on his knees as he regarded Karryl from beneath his eyebrows. “It seems that I owe you an apology and an explanation, but first we have to search these robes.” His mouth gave a wry twist. “Unless you can remember which one I was wearing when we dined with Corlian and Bardilan.”

Karryl pulled the next robe out of the chest and began feeling for the pockets. “I can’t even remember which one
I
was wearing, let alone yours!” He frowned at Symon. “Are you intending to help me, or are you working on your apology?”

As if he’d just been reminded he’d been a naughty boy, Symon hunched his shoulders, wriggled off his perch and scurried over to the open chest. For the next half hour, robes piled up on the floor as the two magicians busily searched pockets. As the contents of the chest lowered, the tension in the room rose. Pulling out a deep blue robe lavishly embellished with embroidered silver and white sigils, Karryl felt down the side-seams.

His fingers bunched fabric round a small rectangular shape. “I’ve found it!”

Sliding his hand into the pocket opening, he gently grasped the object between finger and thumb and drew it out. The two magicians stared in astonished silence.

Symon reached over and took the little block of intricately carved black wood from Karryl’s fingers. “I wondered a time or two what had happened to that.” He held it up. “That hole in the end is for a cord to go round your neck. It’s a talisman.”

Looking singularly unimpressed, Karryl added the robe to the knee-high pile. “There’s only two left.”

He reached deep into the chest to lift out a lightweight brown robe, almost devoid of any adornment. Only a few simple geometric shapes were stitched at regular intervals round wide sleeve borders which looked rather the worse for wear.

Symon stared for a moment before stretching out his hand and grasping the robe. “That’s it! The robe I had on!”

Pulling a pocket open, Karryl slipped his hand inside. The pocket was empty. He flipped the robe over and fumbled in the folds. His heart skipped as he felt a hard edge through the thin fabric. With a little cry of triumph he thrust his hand inside the pocket, closing his fingers round the object inside. Letting the robe drop to the floor he opened his fingers. Cradled in his cupped palm lay a small soft leather bag. He loosened the thin drawstring just enough to push two fingers inside. Seconds later, its silver inlays shining in the soft light, the tiny Mirikani box rested on his outstretched hand. Leaving the chest open and the discarded robes in a haphazard heap where they lay, the two magicians headed for the door. Left to its own devices the Light of Perimus gradually sank lower, dwindled and went out.

* * *

Each a little less than an inch long and half as much wide and deep, the pair of tiny black and silver Mirikani boxes lay glinting in Karryl’s palm.

Symon rubbed at his chin, his eyebrows drawn together in a puzzled frown. “They are indeed a perfect matching pair, even down to the fact that there is no immediately visible way of opening them.”

His voice little more than a thoughtful murmur, Karryl also frowned. “That’s assuming of course that they
are
boxes. The spell of opening had no effect.”

Symon took one between his forefinger and thumb. “They’re hardly weighty enough to be solid. I believe they
are
little caskets, and hidden on them somewhere is a means of getting them open.”

The little magician turned the tiny object over and over, running his forefinger over each surface and edge in turn. All were perfect, with no visible or detectable seams, the inlaid angular designs of silver perfectly smooth.

He placed it back beside its twin on Karryl’s palm. “We’re wasting time. I think it would be better if we simply got these and the scroll to Miqhal as quickly as possible. Maybe he has the answer.”

His fingers closing slowly over the pair of tiny artefacts, Karryl gave Symon a long flat look. “And you know exactly where he is then?”

Ignoring the barb, Symon shrugged, lifting his hands palm up. “We could join Magnor. It’s a long cold move to Naboria, but as far as I can see it’s the only option open to us. Just send out another mind-call and find out where he is. Then we can link and transport ourselves to him.”

The little magician had hardly finished speaking when Karryl held up a hand and frowned. “I think Miqhal’s doing just that. A mind-call I mean”

For a few moments, his face wore a distant expression, then his shoulders slumped. “I thought I was getting something, but for some reason all I could grasp was a dim impression of a flying grelfon.” His frown still in place, Karryl stared at his fellow magician. “I wonder. D’you think Magnor’s found him, told him something’s missing, and he means to fly Jaknu here?”

Symon scurried to the window and peered out over the palace grounds. “It’s a possibility I suppose. Wonder what time he’ll get here if that’s his plan.”

Karryl slipped the pair of tiny matching caskets into the little bag, pulled the drawstring tight and placed the bag with its precious contents on his desk. “I’m sure we’ll soon know. I’ll try another mind-call, just in case.”

Turning away from the window, Symon patted his palms together. “I will leave that to you. I think it’s time Vailin was brought up to date. He’s no doubt aware that the conjunction is imminent, but it’s essential that he knows who is where and what they are doing.”

Karryl was not really listening, his whole attention focussed on pulling in a clear and understandable communication from Magnor. With a shrug of his shoulders, Symon turned and hurried out of the study. He fervently hoped Vailin wasn’t in a meeting. After waiting for a few moments Symon quickly changed robes and moved himself to the ante-room adjoining Vailin’s private chambers. There was just enough time to inform the young king of developments, before the entire proceedings shifted to the other side of the world...if Karryl’s mind-call proved unsuccessful.