rapidly, trying to shake off having nearly been blinded. “A warning would have been nice,” she snarled quietly. “You found it? It’s done?”
“Yes and yes. The spell that gave it power has been removed without altering its appearance. Only another mage will be able to tell it is not the same as when it was brought here.”
“Good. Now let’s get out of here.”
They retrieved their robes, donned them, and returned to the stables without seeing anyone except the liveryman, who was waiting for them. Horatia handed the him another small sack of coin, thanked him, and the two women rode out of town without an alarm being raised.
Even as Horatia maintained the same level of vigilance on the journey back to camp as she had on the ride out, part of her mind worked on numerous small oddities and inconsistencies. Most of them had to do with changes in Maran’s demeanor. On the ride to Sevry, there was the usual arrogance Horatia was accustomed to from mages. Since leaving the town, that had been joined by a touch of smugness. There was also the matter of a new habit she seemed to have acquired. Periodically, her hand would go to her chest, just below her neck, as if checking that something still hung there under her robes.
A day and a half out from camp, the numerous small oddities and inconsistencies gelled into a strong suspicion.
“Maran, you never told me what the weapon looked like.”
“Didn’t I? Well, we were a bit occupied with getting out of there undetected,” Maran answered cheerfully. “It was disguised to look like a rather elaborate funeral urn. I can only imagine someone thought that a form less likely to be examined. Silly of them, really.” One of her hands lifted off the reins and touched the usual spot.
“And you are absolutely sure it was dead after that big flash?”
Maran smiled indulgently. “Just as I told you, completely quiet. Not the slightest whiff or trace of power after the flash. I would think that, by now, you’d believe me.”
Horatia chuckled. “I do. I have no doubt the urn was dead when we left the storeroom.
Maran looked vaguely surprised, and then smiled broadly. “You trust me!”
“About as far as I can throw my horse.” Horatia smiled at the look of shock that spread across Maran’s face. “You found the weapon, something small enough to hang around your neck. You decided to keep it instead of following orders and decided that lying to me was the best way to convince me to get you back to camp in one piece. What I can’t figure out is why you want the thing. Personal gain?”
“Are you even capable of not being insulting?” Maran snarled. “I serve a higher calling than mere greed.” She was silent for a long while, and then said, almost pleading, “At least let me explain. Perhaps we can come to some kind of arrangement once you understand.”
Horatia pretended not to hear the muttered “if a stupid sow like you is even capable of understanding.”
“Very well, explain it to me.”
Maran looked surprised, then eager. “I had every intention of destroying it if we found it. And then we did, and . . . I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. The elegance of the equations involved, the intricate balancing of energies, the artistry involved in the layering of power. The crime would have been in destroying such a masterpiece.”
“And here I thought we were talking about a weapon that was probably going to used against us, not m’lady’s newest necklace.”
Maran saw her opening and took it. “But don’t you see? Now it’s a weapon in our hands. I’m sure the commander only ordered me to destroy it because he expected it to be something too big to carry away. If he’d known what it was, he’d have ordered us to do what I’m doing, bringing it back to him so it can be used to force a surrender. We’re bringing him back a prize. We’re bringing him back the means to victory. Surely it won’t be considered disobeying orders if the results are so much better than what they would have been if we’d done what we were told.”
“The ends granting justification to the means?”
“Precisely,” Maran replied quickly, her tone confident that she had convinced Horatia to her way of thinking. “And just think of what that will mean for you personally. Think of the ways their gratitude will be expressed. Wordfame! Power! Status! Riches!