“Think it through,” said Usara impatiently. “Sorgrad’s attuned to fire and air. That gives us the four elements between the three of us.”

“You’re thinking we could create a nexus with an untrained Mountain Man?” Shiv was incredulous.

“Maybe not a nexus,” allowed Usara. “But it’s a chance to see how we could use our elements in common that we’ll never get in Hadrumal, not without someone running telltale to Kalion or Troanna.”

“Perhaps.” Shiv drummed his fingers on the table before stopping with a decisive thump. “Planning a fire won’t boil the pot. You’d better bespeak Sorgrad and see what he thinks.”

Pered slung the strap of his satchel over his shoulder. “I’ll go earn you the cost of a few more candles.” He caught the hand Shiv raised to him. “Let me know as soon as you can fix a sailing date. A few portraits in oils would fetch a sight more coin than ink and watercolour sketches.” He squeezed Shiv’s fingers and went through the door with a spring in his step.

Usara looked after him with embarrassment. “We do have enough money for such things.”

“He doesn’t paint or draw for the coin.” Shiv laughed. “That’s just a handy excuse. He’d spend his last cut piece on parchment scraps or charcoal before he’d even think of bread.”

Usara rubbed his hands briskly together. “Let’s see if we can find Sorgrad.” He reached for a small travelling mirror. “Fetch me a taper, would you?”

But the door opened again before Shiv had reached for the pot on the mantelshelf.

“Look who I met on the stairs,” announced Pered.

“Larissa.” Shiv’s greeting was barely civil.

Usara gaped. “What are you doing here?”

“Good day to you.” Larissa took the chair Shiv had just vacated and tucked demure lavender skirts around booted ankles. She unlaced her short grey travelling cloak and let it fall back to reveal a close-buttoned, high-necked bodice to her long-sleeved gown. For all her sober garb, the mage-woman carried herself with an unconscious sensuality. Pered absently dug sketching materials out of his bag.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” asked Shiv curtly.

A faint wash of colour highlighted Larissa’s strong cheekbones. “I want to come to Kellarin.”

Left without a seat, Shiv sat on the bed’s richly embroidered counterpane. “Did Planir send you?”

“No.” Larissa avoided his eye as she brushed her thick, chestnut plait back over one shoulder.

“Then how did you know we were here?” asked Usara mildly.

“Planir told me you were sailing for Vithrancel.” There was a hint of defiance in Larissa’s reply. “You had to be here or in Bremilayne. I can scry.”

“You expect us to believe Planir’s not watching your every move?” said Shiv caustically.

“Shivvalan!” Pered objected.

“Why should he?” Larissa rounded on the lanky wizard. “I’ve no real talent to merit his interest, isn’t that what they say? Dual affinity, but it doesn’t amount to half a true aptitude. How else would I have advanced to the Council without playing the Archmage’s warming pan? What use could I possibly serve there beyond passing on anything I learn inside Planir’s bed curtains.” Bitterness spilled over her sarcasm. “Or perhaps you’re in the camp who think I do have some talent, not for magic obviously but for sleeping with the right man and learning his secrets when I’ve slaked his lusts? Are you one of those imagining I’m playing a deeper game, just waiting for me to betray him to Kalion or Troanna?” She flapped a mocking hand.

Usara rubbed a hand over his beard. “I see you’re well up on current gossip.”

“There are always plenty of folk who think I really ought to know what’s being said about me.” Hurt tempered Larissa’s resentment.

“Not that they agree, naturally.” Pered glanced up from his sketch with a meaningful look for Shiv. “And they defended you, they really did.”

“You’re the Archmage’s pupil and you sleep in his bed,” Shiv said reluctantly. “Blow in the dust and it’s bound to sting your eyes.”

“Have you never been a fool for love, Shiv?” The faintest quaver threatened Larissa’s composure.

“Of course he has.” Pered’s tone left no room for argument.

Usara cleared his throat in the brittle silence. “Why exactly do you want to join us?”

Larissa sniffed inelegantly. “If I’m a fool for love, Hadrumal gossip says the same of Planir. Or according to Kalion, he’s a fool for lust, which keeps things simpler, the way the Hearth Master likes them. Troanna just seems to disapprove on principle which is a bit rich coming from a woman twice married and with Drianon knows how many children.” Larissa looked unhappily at Usara. “Whoever you listen to, I’m undermining Planir. That bitch Ely was hinting he won’t appoint a new Cloud Master until he can concoct some charade to support my nomination. According to her, he’d use his own abilities to mask my inadequacies before the Council.”

“That’s ludicrous.” Shiv was shocked.

“If I’m weighing the balance against the Archmage, I’m taking myself off it.” Larissa’s tone strengthened. “I’ll prove my aptitudes with something not even Kalion and his toadies can gainsay. You’re exploring how mages might work magic together in less formal ways than a nexus. I have a double affinity; I have insights to offer.”

“That’s not actually why we’re here.” Usara scratched his beard. “Pirates have seized Suthyfer, those islands in the sea route to Hadrumal. We’re going to help D’Alsennin drive them off.”

“Then I can help too,” said Larissa promptly.

“The Archmage doesn’t want it to look as if Hadrumal is playing a part,” Shiv said firmly. “The Emperor won’t stand for it, for a start. If you come with us, that involves Planir.”

“Nobody in Toremal knows I share Planir’s bed,” scoffed Larissa.

“Everyone in Hadrumal does,” Shiv pointed out. “Kalion will be the first to pass on that tasty gossip, if he thinks it’ll discredit Planir among the influential Houses.”

“Surely it’s for the Sieur D’Alsennin to decide if he wants my help,” said Larissa defiantly. “Ask him.”

“I’m not sure—” Usara began hesitantly.

“If you’ve only just arrived you’ll need a room.” Pered stepped forward to forestall a forceful interruption from Shiv. “Shall we see if we can find you one here?”

“That’s a good notion.” Larissa accepted this adroit offer of a dignified exit gratefully. “We can continue this later.”

Shiv closed the door with an emphatic shove, green eyes indignant. “This is a complication we could do without!”

“You don’t feel sorry for her?” Usara obviously did.

“She’s only herself to blame.” But Shiv’s condemnation was half-hearted.

“You think Planir should live like some Soluran anchorite because wizards prefer gossiping about the Archmage’s lovers to pursuing their proper studies?” countered Usara.

“We can’t take her, ’Sar!” Shiv threw up his hands.

“You’re going to tell her she can’t come?” challenged Usara.

Shiv pursed his lips. “We could just leave without her? She’s never been to Kellarin or Suthyfer, so she couldn’t translocate herself there.”

Usara picked up the silver mirror in his hand. “Let’s just get on our way as soon as possible. That means we need Sorgrad’s help, even if we don’t want Larissa’s.”

“This is choosing between rotten apples,” growled Shiv.

“Stop complaining and pass me a candle.” Shiv obliged and Usara set it aflame with a cursory wave of his hand. “Let’s remember we’re looking to help Kellarin, not bicker among ourselves.”

Shiv swallowed some retort. “Can you reach all the way to Solura?

“If I can’t, you’ll have to go scrying for them.” The bearded mage was intent on his spell. In the next moment, the mirror lit with an amber radiance that startled Usara backwards. “Sorgrad, it’s me.”

Shiv stood at Usara’s shoulder to see two familiar figures scrambling away from the spell that had opened up so unexpectedly next to them. Huddled in a ditch beyond the bank of a hollow road, both had the fine blond hair and brilliant blue eyes of the truly mountain born. The first to peer cautiously into the magical void was stockier than his brother but at first glance they looked similar enough to wear the same collars.