The fall of skullkeep, p.8
The Fall of Skullkeep, page 8
Gavin plucked at the hem of his attire. “It’s probably the gold robe. I’ve seen it reduce even the most confident and accomplished arcanist to adolescent stammering.”
Reyna nodded her agreement. “So, what can I do for you, Milord?”
“You know, I’m looking forward to the day when I won’t be Archmagister, just so I can get away from that ‘Milord’ business. I’m Gavin, Reyna.”
Reyna replied with a soft smile and a shake of her head. “While that might be your name, it’s been a long time since you’ve been just ‘Gavin.’ Being Head of one of the Great Houses confers the rank of Duke by itself, not to mention your rather impressive list of accomplishments. If getting away from ‘Milord’ is your sole reason to hand over your office, I’m not entirely certain you’ll be successful. And then, there’s the fact that you will always be the first Archmagister after the death of Bellock Vanlon and the tyranny of the Royal Family. A lot of people have commented on how Bellos chose the Head of House Kirloth to be Archmagister, you know, and many seem to consider it a kind of renewal or rebirth for the Kingdom.”
“Kirloth and the Apprentices founded the Kingdom, so only Kirloth and the Apprentices could set it right? Please, tell me you don’t believe that, Reyna.”
Reyna answered with a noncommittal shrug. “It doesn’t matter what I personally believe, Gavin. I’m just one person who happens to know you and has known you for quite some time. Your changes in the short time you’ve been Archmagister—even counting the year or so you were gone—have done a lot to give the people of Tel hope again, and they won’t forget that anytime soon. But I’m certain you didn’t come here for this discussion.”
Gavin chuckled and shook his head. “No. I wanted an update on your investigation into Drannos Muldannin.”
“For one, he hasn’t set foot on College grounds that I can prove since Alanna Veldin’s case. Per your authority, I accessed the quarters assigned to him here in the Tower, and they showed no signs of occupancy or significant use in quite some time, as in decades if not centuries.”
“I see,” Gavin remarked. “Very well. Put the word out for all Inquisitors to be on the lookout for Magister Drannos Muldannin. If anyone sees him on College grounds, they are to notify you personally at once. Do not engage. Do not attempt to apprehend. You will contact me, and I will handle the matter.”
“May I ask why the sudden interest in this particular magister?”
“If I tell you, you will not write it down or speak of it to anyone. Do you agree?”
Reyna replied with an immediate nod. “Yes.”
Gavin took a deep breath and released as a slow sigh. “Because Othron told me that he taught Emperor Xartham how to become a lich, and Xartham in turn went through dozens of would-be apprentices until one succeeded. Xartham’s sole success was a man named Drannos Muldannin, who Othron now claims is the Necromancer of Skullkeep.”
Reyna collapsed heavily into her seat behind her desk. “That… I don’t even know how to begin calculating how damaging that has been to the Old Alliance, Tel, or even just the Society. Drannos Muldannin has been the Magister of Thaumaturgy for… something like sixty years. Are you certain you can trust Othron in this?”
“I would trust Othron with my life or the life of my daughter,” Gavin replied. “He wouldn’t lie to me about this.”
Reyna still looked shell-shocked. “With… with your permission, I will institute an investigation and review of all Council decisions proposed or heavily influenced by him.”
“You can if you want, but you’ll just be chasing your tail trying to determine which decisions he really cared about. If the Necromancer of Skullkeep is the same person as our Magister of Thaumaturgy, he’s been sitting right under all our noses for many, many years. He even managed to fool my mentor, though it would be interesting to see if they ever crossed paths. I’ve already reviewed the College’s academic policies and the Society’s general policies, and I haven’t found anything that truly stands out as egregious. He couldn’t go too far, because the Society is based on the Arcanists’ Code, and only the sitting Archmagister can modify that, just like Tel’s Constitution.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Reyna remarked, heaving a sigh. “It’s just… I just can’t believe someone could perpetrate that level of fraud successfully for sixty years. That’s insane. Surely, he would have made mistakes.”
Gavin nodded. “Oh, I’m sure he did… here and there. Maybe small ones, maybe not. Honestly, after all this time, I doubt there’s any way to know for certain. And the more I think about it, I’m not all that sure it really matters in the long run. We’ll settle the matter when we re-take Skullkeep.”
“I wish I could be as relaxed about this as you seem to be.”
Gavin grinned around a chuckle. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve had some time to come to terms with the idea. I was a bit gobsmacked when Othron told me.”
“I imagine you were.”
“Well, unless you have anything more for me, I’ll get out of your hair. Be sure to alert everyone to watch for him, but at this point, I doubt he’ll turn up in Tel again. Maybe, if he thinks we haven’t tripped to him, but our mobilization has not been particularly quiet. And… our target isn’t exactly a secret, either. I’d say he’s hunkered down at Skullkeep, preparing his forces to meet ours. I feel certain he’ll stay there until the matter has been settled, one way or the other.”
Reyna nodded, standing as Gavin did so. “I will keep you apprised of any developments and put the word out at once.”
“Thank you, Reyna,” Gavin replied and left the Chief Inquisitor to her work.
As he walked the main corridor of the Tower’s ground floor, Gavin considered his next steps. He wanted to check in with the Army’s general staff, wanted an update on the status of their mobilization, but the regular meeting was in just two days. One of the few personality types Gavin genuinely despised was micromanagers. So—despite how much he wanted to visit the general staff—he took a deep breath, released it as a slow sigh, and counseled himself to wait for the meeting.
A bell rang throughout the city, and moments later, classroom doors all around him exploded open to permit the students’ egress. The group that charged into the hallway right in front of Gavin almost skidded to a stop as they stared at him with wide eyes. More than a few jaws worked, but no one made a sound.
Gavin smiled and gestured for them to proceed, and the students dashed off, more than one casting a wary glance at him over their shoulders. The more he thought about it, the more Gavin decided it would’ve been the same for him if he’d attended college at an institution administered by the President of the United States. Not that such a thing would ever happen on Earth, but it was the closest parallel that came to mind.
“There’s no reason you couldn’t be one of the instructors now, you know,” a weathered voice said from just behind Gavin’s left shoulder.
He grinned and turned to see Valera standing a respectful distance away. “Yes, there is. I barely have enough time to accomplish everything I feel an Archmagister should accomplish. If I tried to add grading papers and overseeing lab time, something would have to give. So, why add that in the first place? Maybe once the Necromancer has been dealt with, we can revisit the topic, but right now, there is simply too much to do.”
Valera replied with an enigmatic smile and just enough of a shrug for Gavin to notice. “From everything I’ve heard, you would be a superlative instructor for our wizard students. I would very much like to revisit the topic, especially if certain other rumors I’ve heard prove true.”
Gavin wanted to ask her what rumors those were, but he suspected they involved his desire to step down from being Archmagister and saw no reason to air that particular laundry just yet. “Yes, well… I won’t deny that I enjoyed teaching, the few times I was able to do it. I’m not sure there is sufficient lecture material to make an entire class out of the Words of Power, so you’d have to help me plan the class.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could fill the time, Gavin. I have no doubt of that at all. Even if you spent half the term telling personal experience stories, those would carry far more educational value than a recounting of most other instructors’ lives. You have experienced and survived a lot in the short time you’ve been with us.”
Gavin’s nod was almost rueful. “Yes… I have.”
“Well, I don’t mean to keep you. It seemed like a perfect moment to say hello.”
“Thank you, Valera,” Gavin replied. “It’s always nice to speak with you.”
Valera turned into her office, and Gavin resumed his walk toward the Grand Stair. Seeing no end to the horde of students filling the hallway, he instead stepped into an alcove and teleported back to the Citadel.
CHAPTER 9
Even though this was not his estate, Gavin felt a special kinship with the meeting room the Conclave of the Great Houses used at the Mivar Estate. He still remembered the blindsided expression on Lyssa’s face when she had learned he was the heir to House Kirloth and Marcus’s apprentice. He wasn’t sure it had even been three full years since that day, but so much had happened since his first Conclave that it felt like almost a lifetime ago.
He was both looking forward to this meeting and dreading it, all at the same time. Rather than deal with the frustration of conveying the army’s general staff up to the Citadel and also rather than trying to occupy a room in the Tower of the Council, the College’s main building, Gavin chose to accept Torval’s offer to host the meeting at the Mivar Estate, which was why people now stood in the Conclave room who had never seen it—or anything like it—before.
“I’m not entirely certain this venue is the best place to discuss sensitive military information,” the ancient general nominally in charge of Tel’s army growled as he peered around the room with a jaundiced eye. “There’s no telling what spy holes the ceiling or these walls have.”
Gavin slid into the seat for House Kirloth at the head of the table and gestured for the rest of the Conclave to assume their seats. He reflected on a report the Wraiths provided him on the army’s general staff and how all indications pointed to many of the general staff being Royalists. Just how they thought to remain loyal to a family that no longer existed puzzled Gavin a bit, but the murmuring nods of agreement the other officers made to reinforce the old soldier’s remark underscored the Wraiths’ observations.
“General, I’m not certain you have sufficient understanding to evaluate this room’s security,” Gavin replied. “We planned the campaign that ended the mercenary threat to Tel Mivar in this room, and we have held wide ranging discussions on the state of Tel in this room without any of that reaching unwanted ears. Now, all that being said… if you don’t feel the Mivar Estate—and this room in particular—is sufficiently secure to discuss recruitment, training, and force levels for our coming Skullkeep campaign, I am quite happy to host the meeting in the Citadel. But I’m afraid you gentlemen will have to climb the… how many flights of stairs, Lillian? Is it twelve or fourteen to that last landing in the Grand Stair?”
Lillian smiled as she almost purred her answer. “It’s twenty-four flights actually, Gavin.”
The old warhorse blanched. “Twenty-four flights of stairs, you say?”
“Yes, General, I believe so,” Lillian replied. “I could be wrong, of course, but I promise you the number’s higher if I am.”
Gavin watched the general staff share a look between each other and fought the urge to grin when each of them reached for one of the empty chairs at the table.
“Well, if you say you’ve held sensitive discussions in this room before without that information leaking,” the old warhorse said, his tone somewhat chagrined, “I am certainly willing to trust your judgment and experience.”
“I appreciate your faith in me, General,” Gavin remarked. “So, where do we stand?”
Over the next few hours, the general staff delivered detailed information on current force levels, the recruitment drive, and the training status of all the new solders. Gavin watched them refer to a sheaf of parchment time and again as they did so and decided they would leave those documents with him. After all, it never hurts to get a second opinion.
“And that is everything we have,” the general said at last, bringing their remarks to a close. “Do you have any questions?”
“Not at this time, thank you, General,” Gavin replied, “but you will leave a copy of your notes with me, if you please. I might want to refer back to them between now and the next meeting.”
The officers shared another look, and Gavin thought one of the younger ones looked a bit antsy at his decision. After several moments of silence, the general nodded his agreement and passed his collection of notes to Wynn, who then passed them on until they reached Gavin, who laid them on the table and folded his hands on them.
“Very well, General, thank you. Unless you have something else, you’re dismissed.”
“Thank you,” the general replied and stood, his officers standing also.
They filed out of the room, and Gavin waited until the door swung shut on silent hinges and latched before he looked to his associates.
“So… comments?”
Torval shook his head. “Unless they’re deliberately understating things, the force levels sound a little low to me.”
“I agree,” Lyssa Cothos replied, “and why is it taking so long to recruit new soldiers? Anytime the late unlamented king wanted new regiments, he just conscripted people.”
Gavin winced. “I would prefer volunteers make up our forces if at all possible. I will order conscription if it’s necessary, but I would much rather we have an army made up of soldiers who chose to join. If nothing else, I would think it raises the base morale.”
Sypara Wygoth nodded. “I can see how that might be. I for one would like to see if their internal numbers match the notes he gave you. I know I saw reports sent to the crown from Wygoth Province that were not wholly accurate. By the time I got around to tracking down whether it was an attempt to undermine me by the civil governors, the royal family was dead and you the Archmagister, so the question became moot.”
“Oh, I think I’ll be able to lay my hands on accurate information,” Gavin replied with an almost predatory smile. “I made sure he left me his notes, so we’ll have something to compare. Otherwise, I imagine he’d try to play the ‘we never said that’ game. I don’t like purges; I never have. But if the general staff is not carrying out its duties, I don’t see any other choice.”
“No,” Carth agreed. “You need people you can trust to do what they need to do and provide accurate reports to you. Without that, the government can’t function. If they’re not doing their jobs, the only question to me is whether to fire them or allow them to retire and draw a pension.”
“It honestly depends on what my independent audit finds. We cannot afford—and I cannot abide—gross dereliction of duty; in that case, I feel very strongly that my hands would be tied. But… if it’s something like old age… as long as they haven’t undermined the Kingdom or the army, I could see retirement in their near future. I hate object lessons. I hope they don’t force my hand.
“But moving on. We have an Alliance Council meeting next week, where we should learn how our allies are doing with their mobilizations. It would not surprise me for the dracons to be sitting at the shore of the Vischaene River with their army wondering where the rest of us are. They can be a bit eager at times.”
Braden—the one person who had as much if not more experience with the dracons than Gavin—rumbled a chuckle. “That might be understating things. Overall, they have been very insistent about contributing what they feel is their part, plus providing recompense for their mistake in deciding the Gods abandoned us when Bellos did not name a new Archmagister. I’ve tried explaining that we forgive them and understand how they could have arrived at that conclusion, but sometimes I feel like I’m talking at a stone cliff. They decide how they’re going to handle things, and that’s how they handle them. The only person who might be able to change their minds is you, Gavin.”
“If things get too egregious, I’ll have a chat with the Council of Clans,” Gavin agreed. “Aside from the meeting next week, is there any new business?”
No one spoke up, so Gavin rapped his knuckles on the tabletop and stood. “Very well. Torval, thank you for hosting.”
Torval smiled. “It was my pleasure, Gavin.”
With that, Gavin stepped away from the table, slid his chair back in, and strode from the room. He had to visit a certain chapterhouse.
Gavin returned to the Citadel after tasking the Wraiths to investigate the true status of Tel’s army. He hoped their findings mirrored what the general staff reported. Contrary to what he was sure many people believed about him, he did not enjoy upsetting everyone’s apple carts. Just because he did it well didn’t mean he set out to do it.
After checking in with Hartley, Gavin went to his study and eased into his favorite seat. The matter of not having a way to test whether he could sever a lich’s link to its soul jar bothered him. The idea of attempting some kind of simulation occurred to him, but after thinking his way through it, he realized that he wouldn’t know if the link severed because that’s what he wanted to happen or because that’s what would actually happen.
The matter frustrated him to the point that he actually considered asking Othron to teleport him to Xartham’s palace, just to test his theory. But no matter how appealing he found that solution, he cast it aside. He didn’t know how that would affect his friendship with Othron, and he valued that more than the test.
Life at the Necromancer’s stronghold was not as difficult as Cyn feared it would be. Yes, a number of soldiers—and not all of them male—tried things, but after she knifed the guy who helped himself to a handful of her ass, matters calmed rather quickly. When her sergeant summoned her later that day, she fully expected to be ushered out of the fortress or killed and raised into the undead horde, and she almost didn’t believe it when the sergeant just laughed and told her not to kill anyone else if she could keep from it. He seemed to consider it an example of her skill that she had killed the guy with one strike and so quickly after grabbing her.
