The Emerald Storm (The Riyria Revelations #4)

?Excellent! Excellent! Erandabon ez very pleazed!”


Hadrian strode forward. “Get us to that ship now. Give me time to think, and I swear I’ll will introduce you to Oberlin myself!”





Chapter 20

The Tower


Modina watched Arista as she sat on the floor of her bedroom within the chalk circle and burned the hair. Together they watched the smoke drif t.

“What is that awful smell?” Amilia entered the bedroom waving a hand before her face while Nimbus trailed behind her.

“Arista was performing a spell to locate Gaunt,” Modina explained.

“She’s doing magic—in here?” Amilia looked aghast and then added, “Did it work?”

“Sort of,” Arista said, with a decidedly disappointed tone. “He’s somewhere directly northeast of here, but I can’t pinpoint the exact location. That’s always been the problem.”

Amilia stiffened, her eyes glancing at Nimbus accusingly.

“I didn’t say a word,” he told her.

Amilia asked Arista, “If you find Degan Gaunt, what are you planning to do?”

“Help him escape.”

“He is the general of an army poised to attack us.” She turned to Modina. “I don’t see why you are helping her—”

“I’m not trying to return him to his army,” Arista cut in. “I need him to help me find something—something only the Heir of Novron can locate.”

“So, you…and Gaunt…will leave?”

“Yes,” Arista told her.

“And what if you are caught? Will you betray the empress by revealing the aid she has provided you?”

“No, of course not. I would never do anything to harm her.”

“Why are you asking this, Amilia?” Modina looked from her to Nimbus and back again. “What do you know?”

Amilia hesitated for only a moment then spoke. “There is a Seret Knight standing guard in the base of the north tower.”

“I am not familiar with your palace. Is that unusual?” Arista asked.

“There’s nothing to guard there,” Amilia explained. “It’s a prison tower, but none of the cells hold prisoners. Yet last night I watched two fourth floor guards deliver a pot of soup there.”

“To the guard?”

“No,” Amilia said, “they delivered the soup to the tower. Less than five minutes later, I arrived. The soup was gone, pot and all.”

Arista stood. “They were feeding a prisoner, but you say there are no occupied cells in the tower? Are you sure?”

“Positive. Every door was open and every cell vacant and looked to have been that way for some time.”

“I need to get in that tower,” Arista declared. “I could burn a hair in one of the empty cells. If he’s nearby that could really tell us something.”

“There is no way you are getting in that tower,” Amilia told her. “You’d have to walk right past the knight. While the Secretary to the Empress might get away with such a thing, I highly doubt the fugitive Witch of Melengar will.”

“I bet Saldur could walk in and out of there without question, couldn’t he?”

“Of course, but you aren’t him.”

Arista smiled.

She turned to the tutor. “Nimbus, I have a letter for Hilfred and another for my brother. I wrote them in the event something happened to me. I want to give them to you now, just in case. Don’t deliver them unless you know I am not coming back.”

“Of course,” he bowed.

Amilia rolled her eyes.

Arista handed the letters to Nimbus, and for no particular reason gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Just make certain when you are caught that you don’t drag Modina into it,” Amilia said, leaving with Nimbus.

“What are you planning to do?” Modina asked.

“Something I’ve never tried before, something I’m not even certain I can do. Modina, I don’t know what will happen. I might do some strange things. Please ignore them and don’t interfere, okay?/p> Modina nodded.

Arista knelt and spread her gown out around her. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back. She took another deep breath then sat still. She did not move for a long time. She sat breathing very slowly, very rhythmically. Her hands opened. Her arms lifted, as if floating on their own—pulled by invisible strings, or rising on currents of air. She began to sway gently from side to side, her hair flowing back and forth. Soon she began to hum. The humming took on a melody, and the melody produced words Modina did not understand.

Then Arista began to glow. The light grew brighter with each word. Her dress turned pure white, her skin luminous. It soon hurt Modina’s eyes to look at her, and she turned away.

The light went out.

“Did it work?” Modina asked. She turned back to face Arista and gasped.





***




When Arista opened the door, the guard stared at her stunned. “Your Grace! I didn’t see you come in.”

“You should be more watchful then,” Arista said, frightened at the sound of her own voice—so familiar and yet so different.

The guard bowed. “Yes, Your Grace. I will. Thank you, Your Grace.”

Arista hurried down the stairs, self-conscious and fearful as she clutched three strands of hair in her left hand and a chunk of chalk in her right. She felt exposed walking openly in the hallways after hiding for so long. She did not feel any different. Only by looking at her hands and clothing could she see evidence that the spell had worked. She was wearing imperial robes and her hands were those of an old man, with thick gaudy rings. Each servant or guard she passed nodded respectfully, saying softly, “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

Growing up with Saldur practically as her uncle had at least one advantage—she knew every line of his face, his mannerisms, and his voice. She was certain she could not perform a similar illusion with Modina, Amilia, or Nimbus, even if she had them in front of her for reference. This took more—she knew Saldur.

By the time she reached the first floor of the palace, she was gaining confidence. Only two concerns remained. What if she ran into the real Saldur, and how long would the spell last? Stumbling through what had to be an advanced magical technique, she worked solely by intuition. She knew what she wanted, and had a general idea how to go about it, but the result was more serendipity than skill. So much of magic was guesswork and nuance. She was starting to understand that now and could not help but be pleased with herself.

Unlike what she had managed in the past, this was completely new. Something she did not even know was possible. Casting an enchantment on herself was a frightening prospect. What if there were rules against such things? What if the source of the Art forbade it and imposed harm to those that tried? She never would have attempted it under different circumstances, but she was desperate. Still, having done so, having succeeded, she felt thrilled. She had invented it. Perhaps no wizard had ever managed such a thing!