Sovereign mage, p.23
Sovereign Mage, page 23
Felicia and Ray were the last to arrive, she in her battle dress and Ray in a suit bearing Felicia’s heraldry. It was still a winged cat, but it had shifted from facing away to facing forward. Callum’s cloak had changed to mimic it, which was an odd thing to see happen all on its own, but he’d accepted the fae artifact would just be weird that way.
“Everyone ready?” Hargrave asked, as the nominal senior of the group, though Callum was pretty sure Shahey was older and he knew Wizzy was. “Then if you would, Archmage Wells.”
“Certainly,” he said. While he wasn’t sure he really deserved the moniker just yet, there was hardly anyone who could contest it. Or rather, whatever technicalities there were behind becoming an archmage were irrelevant compared to what Callum could already do. Such as open portals into Faerie.
The host for the summit was the Court of Leaves, presided over by Prince Galivrick. Callum had been there once before while he was looking for Ray, so navigating a shielded drone back there had been simple enough, and he’d stashed it near the entrance at the enormous tree. Now he waved a hand, aware of the theatre as he created a ten-foot-wide portal in the Hargrave courtyard, positioning its opposite number at the end of the broad formal path that led into the tree. Hargrave formed a walkway through it at its widest point, the force construct shimmering, so they could walk abreast and not have to step over the edges of the circular portal.
Callum took his place in the middle of the procession, aware that on one hand, he had no real defenses, but on the other, that everyone else around him could collectively shrug off a nuclear strike. Which didn’t stop him from keeping a teleport framework tight around himself, ready to evacuate. Maybe he was overthinking it, but it seemed likely someone would take a shot at him.
For the first time Callum actually entered Faerie, and found it to be a strange experience. The trees of the Court of Leaves were huge, bigger than redwoods, and exuded the feeling of age. It was like he’d stepped into some primeval forest, with a scent that reminded him of the Appalachian mountains of his home, only more so. In fact, it was too intensely green and verdant, just barely crossing over some invisible line to become downright eerie.
He knew it wasn’t just a glamour, but he doubted it was entirely natural, for any given definition of the word. There was an absurd lot of magic bound up in all the trees and roots and leaves, not to mention things like flowers the size of oaks growing on either side of the path, their heads bowed and light dripping from their petals. The more he looked the weirder it seemed, like it was put together dreams and imagination rather than anything real, with all the exaggerations and overly sharp colors and sensation found only in the mind.
They descended from Hargrave’s force bridge to a pathway composed of what seemed to be densely interlaced flower petals, feeling like carpet underfoot. The fae themselves were strangely disappointing, being the absolute stereotype of an elf. Tall, pointed ears, looking like they believed themselves superior to God and all his angels. Callum disliked them on sight. Ahead of them, he could sense a lot of people and a lot of mage bubbles, many of them with the steely texture of archmages.
He surreptitiously teleported an antacid into his mouth and crunched on it.
Their group moved forward, ignoring the stares of all the elf-styled fae that were hanging around outside the venue, and Felicia waved one hand. A fae that looked like the spitting image of a secret service agent materialized out of her shadow, trotting ahead of them to whisper to the elf hovering at the entrance to the massive central tree. The fae in question bowed to them and opened the door, announcing them with a truly stentorian voice.
“Please bid welcome to Archmage Hargrave, of House Hargrave. Archmage Taisen, of House Taisen. Teopixqui Huitzilin, Archmage of Blood. Dragonblooded Ensharrehael. Princess Felicia Blackblood and consort. Alpha Chester of the Midwest Pack. The Ghost, Archmage Wells.”
Chapter 15 – Demands
Archmage Janry was, in a way, hoping that the other side wouldn’t show up to the summit. Their pet fae princess had made certain demands on Prince Galivrick that had nearly sunk the entire thing, but sadly the fae negotiations had been straightened out in the end. Still, it would have been far better if the princess had been the only one to represent her side. Even if there was to be no violence, he would have preferred his faction to dominate the talks.
Most of the Archmage Council was there, and the Guild of Enchanting had somehow pulled off a miracle and even convinced Duvall to attend. It was clear her attendance was only grudging, and she made a point of seeking out Janry. Her perpetually sour face was pinched, even for her, and he braced himself for the lash of her tongue.
“If that heretic Wells shows up, you’re ruined,” Duvall said instead, scowling fiercely. “He is meddling in things not meant for mages. They’re forbidden for a reason. I won’t be sticking around if you provoke that man and his deviancy.”
Janry made soothing remarks as he tried to steer her back to Rossi, glad that he wasn’t as hidebound as Duvall was. The beliefs of the older Archmages made them easier to control, but they interfered just as much. There was nothing mystical about magic, or those who wielded it.
In all, there were over twenty Archmages and at least that many Magus level personnel at the summit, plus all of Galivrick’s fae playing host. It wasn’t quite as one-sided as the numbers would indicate, since over half the council was neutral at best, and he could only count five other Archmages besides himself as being totally unshakeable. With luck, he could change that.
He winced inwardly at some of the names as the herald spoke them, his voice ringing through the enormous meeting room. After the incident at House Xu he just didn’t know whether or not the dragonblooded were still in play, but they’d been quiet enough that he had hope they’d been removed. Apparently he was wrong.
The inclusion of Huitzilin was strange, since that man basically didn’t bother with any politics. He just wanted to be left alone and generally was, only invited to meetings out of politeness. Janry doubted that he was genuinely as dangerous as some of the stories said either, but his lack of connections made him a bit of a non-entity.
Then there was Wells. Janry had not expected him to come, considering the man’s history and general unreachability, and he wasn’t entirely certain what to think of that other than perhaps he was on someone’s leash. Calling him an Archmage was laughable, but a fairly predictable strategy. A new mage was hardly going to get much respect.
“Those are the guests you expected?” Prince Galivrick asked disapprovingly, though Galivrick disapproved of almost everything. He was a tall, willowy fae that absolutely radiated contempt for anyone he believed to be beneath him. Which was essentially everyone.
“It’s easier for people to make up their minds when they see what they’re dealing with,” Janry said by way of explanation as he watched the group walk into the room. The air shivered with vis from dozens of mages using active senses, a low background thrum that painted the room and the magic therein onto his consciousness. He didn’t need to see the guests with his own eyes to gauge them, though he liked to.
Shahey’s oversized avatar towering over everyone was strange, like some obscure joke Janry didn’t quite get. The rest were, effectively, as he remembered them, though Wells didn’t match the pictures from years ago. He’d aged some – another point against him being an archmage – but that was made up for by the hard cast of his face. The expression of someone weighing life in his hands.
Everyone was looking at the new arrivals, judging them. Even the people who had accepted the bribery via the Guild of Enchanting had never actually met Wells, and many of the people in the room had never been on good terms with either Hargrave or Taisen. Half of Janry’s people were still outraged about the latter’s unilateral formation of his own House.
“Come. We are the hosts,” Galivrick said, making his displeasure clear, though whether at the guests or at Janry remained ambiguous. The two of them walked across the polished wooden floor, past the tables laden with exotic fruits and meats, to greet the Earth Alliance. Janry had to admit it was exceedingly tempting to do something , given Wells didn’t have a sphere of authority, but neither did Huitzilin and it was a matter of historical record that attacking him was a poor idea.
“Members of the Earth Alliance,” Galivrick said, in a tone that was just short of a sneer. “Welcome to the Court of Leaves. As a reminder, you all agreed to begin no hostilities while you are here.”
“We understand,” said the princess, who looked relatively small and ordinary next to Galivrick’s finery, though even Janry could feel the power in her voice. To his mage sight she was cloaked in vis, crackling down into a long train behind her, so despite the outer appearance she had some claim to being a contender.
Of them all, it was Wells who had the least magical presence, just behind Huitzilin, though there was just the faintest hint of something that Janry couldn’t resolve. Despite his opinion of Wells, he knew what the man had achieved before. There was no reason to underestimate what Wells could do, though both he and Huitzilin seemed completely blind without their own contribution to the buzz of active vis around them.
“I am Archmage Janry,” he said, though most of them already knew that. “I’m glad to welcome you here,” he continued, despite them all knowing it was a lie. “Hopefully we can work out our differences and come to a mutually beneficial resolution of hostilities.”
Wells’ eyes fixed on him, and despite himself Janry felt a chill. It wasn’t like Wells was angry, it was more like he was simply considering ways to kill. The gaze didn’t last long, but it was a face of complete psychopathy. Janry revised his opinion; Wells was just insane.
“Unlikely,” Hargrave said, flat and matter of fact. “But it does seem to be time to clarify where we stand. Sniping back and forth is sure to end in disaster.”
“Something you should have done before you decided to break the back of GAR,” Janry snapped.
“Then GAR should not have come after me in my own home,” Alpha Chester growled, low enough that Janry could feel it through his feet.
“We’re not here for recriminations,” the princess said. “There’s plenty of those to go around. The point is to find something short of total annihilation.”
“Quite so,” Janry agreed, not entirely certain who had come out ahead in the exchange. “I’ll give you time to meet the rest of the archmages before we convene.”
“The food and drink are quite safe,” Galivrick said, as if it were unthinkable that a fae would ever serve questionable refreshments. “Feel free to partake. I have other guests to attend to.” His tone made it quite clear that any other guests would do. Galivrick glided off, but that was fine. The fae had provocations to make, ones that might work even better with Wells around.
***
Callum wasn’t really impressed by the gathering of mages. He could tell how powerful they were from the steely mage bubbles and the sheer amount of vis in the air, every single one of them leaving trails through the heady mana of Faerie and pulsing out active senses, but they didn’t look any different from normal people. Mostly grandfatherly or grandmotherly people, at that.
By common agreement, Callum stuck with Taisen, Felicia, and Ray. Everyone else could take care of themselves and probably had their own deals to make. Even Chester could probably deal with an Archmage better than Callum could, but it wouldn’t do to let anyone know that. Such gatherings were as much about theater as they were about fact.
To that end he refused to show his own anxiety and kept his shoulders back, his head up straight, and looked people dead in the eyes. Though he couldn’t help feeling somewhat diminutive compared to Shahey’s eight-foot avatar, Chester’s natural bulk, or the fact that most of the elves were over-tall, willowy things whose only way of looking seemed to be down their noses. Not to mention several of the archmages using foci or just their natural aspect to float about the place a few feet above the floor, rather than doing something so pedestrian as walking.
In another time and place he might have been impressed by the huge wooden arches vaulting the ceiling, or the living vines twined around every column and beam, or the sprays of flowers with exotic colors not found in nature. It was all very sumptuous and calculated to impress, but the people made it impossible to enjoy. Callum couldn’t help but track Janry’s bubble as the archmage moved off elsewhere and had to fight the urge to do something about it.
Fortunately, Rossi of the Guild of Enchantment came to rescue them before Callum had to really wrestle with temptation. It was his first time meeting the man on purpose, and Callum had to remind himself not to offer a hand. Mages didn’t do that, thanks to the bubbles.
“Archmage Wells,” Rossi said, with a credible straight face. “I’d like to introduce you to Archmage Montgomery. Archmage Montgomery, this is our supplier for the private portal worlds.” Montgomery was a short and portly fellow who didn’t look much older than Callum and, unlike most of the other archmages Callum could spot, he was beaming from ear to ear.
“Oh, excellent! I’ve been very much enjoying the new locale. Faerie is fine but, the neighbors, you know?” Montgomery winked, and Callum felt his lips quirk upward despite himself. At least someone was happy with him, and he frankly couldn’t blame Montgomery for not wanting to live next to fae. Especially ones who radiated arrogance like the Court of Leaves.
“Glad to hear it,” Callum said, summoning up the best diplomatic tone he could manage. “I am of the opinion that separating the supernaturals out into their own individual worlds resolves many problems. Of course, for that to happen those individual worlds have to exist, and be worth living in.”
“Montgomery got the infinite fjord portal world.” Lucy’s voice came through his earpiece, and Callum relaxed a little bit. Having someone else who could do all the referencing for him was a great help.
“The more connections we have, the better it is too,” Montgomery said. “You ought to talk to Duvall. I’m sure she’s somewhere around here.”
“That would not be a good idea,” Callum said with a wince. He reflexively glanced around, but he didn’t actually know what Duvall looked like. All he knew was that she was one of the female archmages, but that still left a half-dozen possibilities assuming she was even in the room. “Duvall and I are not on good terms at all.”
“Ah, a shame. I’m a water mage myself and I always found it useful to compare notes,” Montgomery said, completely indifferent to the grudge between Duvall and Callum. “Maybe later, when things have calmed down a bit.”
“Perhaps,” Callum said, considering that, to Montgomery, later might well be fifty years down the line. There was no telling how old he was.
“Well, I shouldn’t monopolize you too much,” Montgomery said, nodded to him, and wandered off. Rossi offered Callum a smile and waved his hand around at the assembled mages.
“Over half of them have portal worlds you provided,” he said. “We can introduce you to a few more people before anything starts.”
“I would appreciate it,” Callum said, though he wasn’t really looking forward to it. Gladhanding was an important part of networking but it was also the most tedious, insincere, and unpleasant part of it.
“I’ll tag along,” Taisen said. “In case any of them are having issues with local wildlife. My people screened the portal worlds first but there was hardly time for a thorough, years-long inspection.”
“I haven’t heard any complaints,” Rossi said, waving a hand toward a thin, almost emaciated man who looked like he was bent under the weight of the world, but had a bubble as steely as Hargrave. Felicia waved her hand briefly and made for some fae, since it was clear that Taisen had things well in hand.
Callum had himself braced for a long and exhausting time with strangers when there was a musical tone and a wood column in the middle of the room began to move. The base twisted outward, turning from a single post into a series of arches, revealing a spiral stairway that could not possibly fit into the post it had once been, or the column above. But still, from it came a trail of humans, some dancing and others playing instrument, presumably to provide entertainment.
Every single one of them was clad in chains.
Nor did they look particularly joyful, something false to the smiles and dancing. The real fae weren’t exactly the fae of stories, but they were close enough. He’d be hard-pressed to relate any specific examples, but he knew there were plenty of tales of artists or musicians trapped and forced to perform forever. Callum had seen some of that in passing the first time he’d sent the drone through, but it hadn’t been so blatant.
“Felicia,” he muttered, toggling the microphone with the remote in his pocket.
“Yes, I see.” Her voice sounded in his ear. “It’s a deliberate message.”
“Not very diplomatic,” he replied. “We’ve got to do something about it. We’re here to show what we’re about, right?”
“We did agree not to start trouble,” Hargrave’s voice came over the line.
“We agreed not to start hostilities ,” Felicia corrected him. “As did they.”
“The only way to make this work is to show we’ve got the biggest, brassest ones in the room,” Taisen chipped in. “We’re here to make demands, and the only way they’ll take us seriously is if we take ourselves seriously.”
“I will deal with it; such a thing is my responsibility,” Felicia said. “Just be ready in case I need to show exactly how strong my backing is.”
“You all be careful.” Lucy’s voice came over the line. “There’s more of them than there are of you.”
“Yeah,” Callum sighed. “That’s my worry.”
