Pillar of White Flame

© 2015 by Walter Reimer


This is a sequel to The Gray Tower, which is a sequel to The Black Chapel. It’s not really necessary to read the previous two stories, but they provide important plot points and great yiff, so you’re missing out if you don’t. Just saying.


Art by  zenafox


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Part 15.


“Master Gafari?” Master Kulorn echoed when Maffa had told him. She had immediately sent all of the students going through the stacks again, looking for the records of that hunt. The bull scratched at the junction between his head and his left horn. “Does anyone recall what happened?”

The other Masters glanced at one another before the ewe who was the Order’s lore-mistress sat back and closed her eyes. She and her staff had been helping Maffa in her research. “We all know the legend: that Jeresh had either gained, learned or was taught magic that the Order considered evil. He was expelled from the Order – “

“I had heard that he left voluntarily,” another Master said.

“My staff are working to determine the truth,” the ovine said, without opening her eyes. “All of the evidence, however, points to his amoral and sacrilegious behavior. The reports submitted to me by Adept Hringurhali reinforce this.”

Marok asked, “She’s been sending them to you?”

“Of course. It’s required, Marok, as you know. They are carefully warded to keep anything sensitive from prying eyes,” and the ewe smiled. “Besides, there are no spells in the archived materials.”

Marok frowned, and without opening her eyes the Archivist asked, “What troubles you, Marok?”

The bear rubbed his nose. “Nothing, Lavura. Ast and I are monitoring her when she transcribes the journals she took out of the Black Chapel,” and he briefly explained the scattershot manner in which Jeresh the Black had written things down.

Kulorn shifted in his seat. He had been forced to use a soothing ointment after his trip to the garderobe. “Were there any spells in his journals?”

“Not that we’ve been able to discern,” the bear replied, “which I, personally, find very odd.”

“She couldn’t be hiding anything, could she?”

A pause to consider, and Marok shook his head. “I am confident in her abilities.”


***


The soft soap had been scented with lavender oil, and Halvrika worked it into the fur at her crotch, sighing at the feel of her fingers scrubbing herself clean. A short distance away in the steam-filled bathing room, Chama emptied another bucket of water over her head to finish rinsing herself off. Stepping clear of the water on the floor the erminess asked, “Are you sure you don’t need my help with that?”

Halvrika chuckled. “No,” she said for the third time. Even for an adherent of Imjasta, Chama was a bit enthusiastic. “I’m sure I’m keeping you from doing something.”

The ermine shook her head firmly as she toweled off. “His Grace put me in your service,” she said, and she giggled. “I’m thoroughly enjoying myself – “

The door opened and both women shivered as a gust of cool air heralded an equally cool voice. “I’m glad that you are.”

Chama eeped and shrank back as the Duke walked in, holding his brush high to avoid dragging it through the water on the floor. “I wish to speak with Adept Hringurhali.” He fixed the maid with a stare. “Alone.”

The ermine femme goggled at him for a moment, then squeaked again and, seizing two more towels, raced out of the room.

The raccoon femme started to cover herself and the fox said, “I’m sure you’re used to being naked, Adept, and that soap has a tendency to start stinging if left on too long. Continue bathing.” He said this casually, almost dismissively as he stood watching her, fully dressed, paws behind his back.

“Yes, Your Grace,” and Halvrika continued to wash herself. “To what do I owe – “

“You disappoint me.”

Those three words caused her tongue to freeze to the roof of her mouth. For a moment, she was a Novice again, having to explain an error in her lesson. She stammered, “You-Your Grace – “

“I told you I wanted a report from you,” Evoli’s voice never rose from a flat, almost conversational tone. “Instead I find you dallying with one of the maids.” He sighed. “Perhaps I should have asked the Order for someone more mature to represent them.” He looked at her expectantly.

She swallowed. “Your Grace, I have been working on your report – “

“I see no evidence of it.”

“I’ve done six pages so far, but – “

He twitched his ears forward. “You were going to turn it in when you completed it?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied. She felt a wave of relief wash through her as he nodded.

His brush gave a slight flick. “Six pages – you are obviously trying to make it as comprehensive as possible,” he said. “You will continue until you are finished, then present it to me.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Duke Evoli turned to go and said over his shoulder, “You will dine with me tonight. I wish to know more about you,” and he walked out of the room before she could reply.

Halvrika watched him go, then hurriedly started rinsing herself off. She had to get back to her room and work on that report. She finished dumping a last bucket of water over herself, and the water fled her fur in an expanding bubble as her power asserted itself. Now dry, she headed into the next room to gather her clothes.

Chama caught up to her at the door to her rooms. “Halvrika!” the ermine panted. “What’s wrong?”

“The Duke’s mad at me for going too slowly on – on the task he set me,” the raccoon said. “And he wants me to have dinner with me tonight.”

She nodded. “I heard that he’d ordered dinner for two in the Gold Room tonight.” Her tone of voice sounded as if she was impressed by this.

“The ‘Gold Room?’” Halvrika asked, and shook her head as her banded tail flicked in agitation. No, no, no – it wouldn’t do to get distracted. “Chama, will you do me a service, and bring me a pot of tea and something to eat? I really need to work on this.”

The ermine femme nodded. “Sure.” She gave Halvrika a quick peck on the cheek and walked off as the Adept entered the room. She immediately took her seat, picked up the pen and dabbed it into the inkwell before resuming where she had left off.

”I write now of your housecarl, Lord Jorj. How Amb had done this, I am not certain, but a spell had been implanted within him. It forced him against his will, I believe, to attack the Princess Trasta while her expedition was within your domain . . . “

The pen slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers, leaving a spatter of ink on the parchment and the wooden desk. She hugged herself as her eyes grew moist at the memory, and she unwillingly thought back to her rape at Amb’s paws.

If he had succeeded, what would have become of her? Would she have been reduced to the mindless state that quartet of women in the Chapel had been? Or would he have forced her to act on his orders, as he so obviously made Lord Jorj do?

The thought chilled her to the bone, and she was grateful when Chama brought a steaming pot of tea and a plate of fruit and small meat pasties as a luncheon. The maid merely nodded at her and left the raccoon to her thoughts as she ate and drank, steeling herself to relive those days as she recounted them.

One thing she deliberately omitted was the composition of the spells used. Duke Evoli was not a magic-user, although he had some rudimentary Sight, and the knowledge would have been useless to him. However, there was the possibility that another rogue user could happen across her work and capitalize on it.

And she was determined that the knowledge should never be allowed to fall into evil paws.

Jeresh’s journals had so far included no spellwork or even much mention of what he had learned. Her transcriptions of the documents had managed to convince her that the fellow had been quite completely insane. She took a break before getting ready for dinner.


***


“Sarti!”

“Your Highness?” the bull asked.

The elk buck hobbled over to him and pressed a sealed square of parchment into his paws. “I need this to be given directly into Duchess Rolna’s paws. It must NOT be given to any of her retainers – I have no idea how deep the Order’s influence goes, but I’m not taking any chances,” Prince Meki said.

Sarti bowed. “I will put into Her Grace’s paws myself, Highness, or I shall bring it back to you.”

Meki nodded approvingly and clapped him on the shoulder. “I know I can count on you, Sarti.”


***


“Good evening, Your Grace,” Halvrika said, dropping a slight curtsy. She was wearing an ankle-length dress in white with a geometric pattern worked in yellow at the cuffs and neck and with a matching belt. The Surveillant Eye was sewn onto the left breast of the garment. Her headfur was worn loose as she straightened and added, “I am honored by your invitation.”

The fox’s dark silver fur was meticulously brushed until it was glossy. He wore a blue tunic with silver embroidery, and a kilt and sash that matched the pattern his personal guards wore. A dagger was sheathed at his belt, and he wore leather boots that extended almost to his knees. The Duke nodded, acknowledging her obeisance. “I am pleased that you could come, Adept. Come,” he said as he offered his paw.

The raccoon sow placed her paw in his and couldn’t resist gaping. Chama wasn’t joking about being impressed.

The Keep’s ‘Gold Room’ was floored and paneled in pure white, almost translucent marble, with broad sweeps of window to catch the sun to the south and southwest. The windows were inlaid with thin slices of amber, and more amber and gold decorated the walls. The ceiling bore more gilding, as did the fireplace and the furniture. With direct sunlight falling into the room, it was as if one were immersed in golden light.

“Your Grace?”

“Yes?”

“The table – it’s only set for two.” The table looked as if it could comfortably seat six, and gilt-edged plates and silverware were arrayed just so. Zhef and another Anchak highlander stood against the walls.

Evoli chuckled. “You’re very perceptive,” he said. “My wife and mother are having dinner together – elsewhere. I want to get to know you better, so be prepared for questions with dinner.” He gestured with his free paw, and Zhef stepped forward to hold Halvrika’s chair for her.

When the Duke had seated himself, wine was poured by the other mephit (whose name was Chon), and the first dish was presented, a fish soup with small loaves of crusty bread for sopping the broth. Partway through the course the fox asked, “Do you like the soup?”

“It’s delicious.”

“I’ll pass that on to the cook. He’ll be pleased.” He tore off a bit of bread and chewed, a pensive look on his face. “Do you have any family, Adept? Or are you an orphan?”

Halvrika took a sip of wine to clear her throat before replying, “My parents still live, Your Grace. I’m the daughter of Thegn Ranol of Hringurhali.”

The tod frowned. “I’ve heard that name . . . ah! Yes, a herald came north to say that King Aroki had lifted the Denunciation on Thegn Ranol. I almost thought the man was lying.”

“The King,” and Halvrika flushed a bit as she recalled the scene, “was very angry when I named that as my reward for killing Amb Tokarv. But he’d given his word, so he agreed to it.”

“Brave young woman,” and the tod smiled. “Why did you go into the Order?”

Halvrika almost didn’t notice Zhef taking empty bowl and plate away. “I was sent,” she said, “after my father was Denounced. The prospects for a marriage match had dimmed, you see.”

It startled her that she could speak of it so calmly.