A Ragged Magic (15 page)

Chapter Fifteen

J
ulianna’s voice wakes me, and I flail a moment, sit up, groaning. A thick blanket falls to my lap, as I blink and rub my eyes.

“Rhia, we have to get ready,” she says. I look up to find her standing by the window, looking out. The lamps reflect off of the deepening gloom.

“Is it dusk already?”

Being Solstice, dusk is late indeed, which means I’ve slept for hours. The feast tonight will last past midnight, so I won’t have been the only person to take a nap, but I wasn’t planning on it. The color of the sky outside is a wet stone gray, deepening to charcoal.

“It will be soon enough. Go and wash up and change. I just need help with my hair, and a few buttons.”

Standing makes me feel woozy, but I notice Julianna seems extra pale. “Are you feeling all right, your Highness? Maybe you shouldn’t attend the Evesong.”

“I have to attend. And I’m fine.” She turns and smiles, attempting cheerful. “Don’t worry about me, or the baby. I’ve done a thorough check, and everything is normal. We’re fine.”

I don’t think she’s nearly as sanguine about her health as she seems, but she’ll only become stubborn if I push her. I nod and head for my room.

It doesn’t take me long to dress. I bring a shawl to put under my cloak. It’s chilly and rainy today, colder than it should be for Solstice. But the storm that’s threatened off shore all day makes the wind brisk. The last few days have been wet and miserable. The weather seems unlikely to change tonight.

When Julianna and I are both ready, I realize Linnet still hasn’t made an appearance. “Do you know where Linnet is?” I ask.

“I sent her to fetch the tapestry. And to calm down — she’s angry about something again. Did something happen?”

“Connor didn’t … didn’t, um. He didn’t want me to tell her something. She’ll get over it,” I say, thinking maybe I won’t burden the princess with today’s events just now. She’ll hear about them eventually. But we need to just get through tonight. “Did Connor tell you … what the plan is?”

“He’s taking care of keeping Orrin away from Gantry during the service, if he can. He’ll cause a diversion if anything seems awry. But I think that with all of us there, Gantry won’t be able to try anything new. Not tonight. But we need to figure out a way to catch him, publicly. If he does go after me tonight, we’ll have that. But Connor doesn’t want to risk it.”

“What if Gantry just says that it’s your own magic that’s causing his spell? He’ll find a way to twist it.”

“That’s what Connor is afraid of.” She sighs. “We have to find some sort of proof of the whole conspiracy, whatever the conspiracy is. And whomever it implicates,” she says darkly. I nod, subdued, and follow her out, out of the rooms, through the bustling great hall, to the courtyard of the west barbican.

The wind bites through my cloak. At least this time I have proper boots on.

Bishop Gantry enters the courtyard behind us, causing me to start and glance behind me. He’s followed by Orrin, who does not meet my eyes, and a group of kirche guards. I see Ferrety from earlier. He seems to be limping. I bite back a slightly hysterical laugh, try to focus on walking without tripping.

I look back again. Orrin’s face is ashy and drawn. He keeps his head down, his dark curls glinting with rain in the torchlight. I can’t see his eyes.

Gantry moves to stand on the small rise before the cold firepit, and Orrin stands behind him.

Castle denizens gather in murmuring groups around the pit, huddled together against the cold. Duchess Marguerite and her ladies make room for Julianna and me, and we stand against the chill wind, blinking in the near-dark. I don’t see Linnet or Connor. Hugh walks to stand next to his mother, smiling genially at everyone, his eyes roving. I nod when he sees me.

The ceremony begins when Gantry raises his arms and starts chanting. The crowd startles and joins in belatedly. I keep an eye on things, but the only magic he’s called so far is fire for the torches, and then the firepit, which sputters to reluctant life in the spitting drizzle. The songs begin.

“Praise to the Lord of Stars, praise to the light. Praise for a harvest bounty, praise for all life.” Not the most eloquent of the lighting songs, but at least it’s short. Gantry’s face is puckered with concentration, and I feel a surge of power building. He reaches back to grab Orrin, and I grip Julianna’s arm.

A glow starts around them, and then is cut off when Orrin falls sideways, pushed over by a stumbling castle guard.

Gantry makes a strangled noise, and Orrin cries out, as the guard clumsily, drunkenly it looks like, lifts Orrin to his feet.

The guard apologizes, patting Orrin down, pushing him further from Gantry, keeping himself in between them.

“So sorry, so sorry, please finish, yer lordship, sorry, sorry, go on,” the man says, and I feel Julianna breathe a sigh of relief. Connor must have set this up. I glance at Hugh and meet his tense smile with my own.

Gantry’s face is a frozen mask of fury. The crowd of castle folk draws back a little further from him. He looks around at everyone for a moment, then raises both hands for the benediction again, the power buildup gone.

I close my eyes and reach out with my Sight to try for a vision, look for knowledge or emotions. But all the people crowd out any specific person, and I can’t isolate any one feeling. They batter at me; uneasiness, boredom, irritation, unhappiness, giddy anticipation. The latter seems mostly people who are looking forward to romantic, or at least passionate, pairings after the feast. Solstice is the night for it, traditionally.

There, there is a thread of abject terror and misery, that I think is Orrin. Before I can follow it more closely and find out, I’m jostled as the crowd turns, starts back indoors. Gantry must have cut the ceremony short. No one seems upset by this, especially as the rain starts coming down in earnest, and thunder rumbles out at sea.

I look back and see the sacred fire hiss and smoke, sputter to nothing. A poor omen for the coming harvest. It’s supposed to burn all night — and the priest in charge of lighting it is supposed to make sure it does. Murmurs around me suggest I’m not the only one to notice.

Inside the great hall, voices bounce off of the walls as people mill, shaking water from hair and clothes. The steward looks miffed that we’re all tracking in water.

Duchess Marguerite smiles and pats his hand, then heads over to Bishop Gantry. I can’t hear all of her words, but I do hear “sacred fire” and “someone else.” I think she’s telling him to find someone to re-light the fire.

Gantry’s face isn’t happy. I can’t see Orrin’s face, but neither can anyone else. He looks only at the floor.

Julianna takes my arm and pulls me along with her. “Let’s hang these wet cloaks up and change out of our boots. The banquet will begin soon, and I’m hungry.” She smiles thinly at me, and I comply.

～

We enter the solar, shaking off our cloaks. Julianna is dressed in her gold and russet satin, and light bounces merrily off of it.

Linnet comes from the chambers, holding the tapestry. “It’s finished. I’m heading to the banquet, since I can’t tell anyone I’m the one who made it.” She glares us and storms out, slamming the door.

Julianna and I blink at each other. I sigh.

Connor comes in a moment later, staring critically over his shoulder. “What is it this time?”

I just shake my head. We’re all tired and out of sorts today.

Julianna sways into me a bit when I reach out for her, and I murmur “You should be in bed.”

“Don’t fuss. I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it.”

“Does the job include fainting in front of everyone?” I ask.

“I don’t faint,” she snaps. “Leave it be.”

I look at Connor, and he frowns at the both of us, but keeps his own counsel. I guess he already had a go at her.

“Hello everyone! Are we ready to go down?” Hugh steps into the room, smiling brightly. “Do you have Mother’s present ready? Where’s Linnet?”

“Already left.”

“Here it is,” Julianna says, draping the tapestry over the back of the chaise.

Everyone stares in appreciation, and even Connor looks impressed. It’s a light silk tapestry, for a doorway in summer to let the air flow. In the center, a rampant lion in scarlet stands triumphant in a field of bright blue. The motto “Strength in Adversity” is cleverly woven in scarlet and gold, twisting around the lion’s feet. It’s the Haverston coat of arms.

I feel a sting of pride. I can see Da’s teaching in her handiwork — the even weave and the lion’s mane are his style. But she adds her own flair in the twisted banner around the claws. Linnet’s work has been sought after since she was eleven.

“It’s lovely,” Connor says, and I smile at him. He blinks at me.

“Mother will adore it,” Hugh says, and rolls it carefully. “We’ll give it to her at dessert. He tucks it under one arm, and bows to his sister. “I think, my dear sister, it is time to descend.”

Hugh offers his arm, and Julianna reaches to take it. “Shall we, my favorite brother?”

“I’d say I’m your only brother, but I’d be your favorite anyway.” And they sweep out the door ahead of us, teasing each other.

Connor smiles a little, offers me his arm. “Shall we, cousin?” I smile back and take his arm, and he escorts me to the banquet.

There is a magnificent view of the great hall from the short staircase in the entryway. The white marble pillars, high pointed arches, and scarlet and blue banners hanging from the gallery seem fitted to a king’s palace, even though this is a duchy. The walls are bathed in flickering light from the lamps and fireplaces, the sound of rain on the high window mostly masked by the voices below.

There haven’t been many formal dinners since I came to the castle, or reasons to use the great hall. Most dinners are served en famille, in their own rooms, or small groups. The duchess keeps country traditions and rather prefers the informality.

We walk to the side of the hall and make our way to the high table, the duchess having come in before us. Julianna stands by her seat next to her brother. Hugh smiles at his sister and mother from behind his chair at the center of the head table. Julianna’s seat is to his left, as his mother’s is to his right. Connor is to Julianna’s left, and I am to his.

All the people at the high and low tables, their rich robes and gowns glowing in the light, sit at the duchess’ gracious nod. The talk resumes, and soon echoes from the ceiling; a cacophony of voices.

I catch a hint of Linnet’s green dress among the duchess’ ladies and their companions at one of the middle tables. When I glimpse her face, she looks small and alone.

Musicians in the gallery above us strike up a tune I’ve never heard, the strings jumping sprightly from note to note, and Marguerite waves to the steward, Gervaise. He bows low and turns to the kitchen doors. The platters of food enter on the shoulders of servants.

I keep an eye on Bishop Gantry, on the other side of the duchess. I see Orrin’s robe bob back and forth, as he pours wine for the bishop, and serves his food.

Connor catches me watching and takes my hand, smiles at me. “Don’t stare too often. But watch for an opportunity to follow him.”

Just past Connor, Julianna’s color looks better than this morning, but her hands shake as she lifts her goblet, and both Hugh and Connor keep their arms close for her to lean on.

As the first course is cleared, I stand to make my way to the back hall. I’m going to follow Orrin. I stumble as I get up, bumping into Connor so that he spills some his wine. He catches hold of me with one arm and steadies me. Warmth from his hand on my waist seeps through layers of velveteen and linen.

He smirks a little. “Not a bad plan, but aim for your quarry next time.”

I roll my eyes and turn to follow Orrin as he leaves the hall for the kitchens. I catch up to him in the corridor before he reaches the stairs. No one else is here at the moment. I run and pluck his sleeve.

“Orrin!” I whisper. “Orrin, come and talk to me. Where were you? What happened? Are you all right?” He turns and stares at me, his expression blank. I reach out to touch his arm, and he flinches. “Orrin?” I say, feeling helpless.

“May I help you, my lady,” he says, but he doesn’t look at me, only at the air past my ear.

“Orrin, it’s me. Don’t you, don’t you know me?”

“Should I, my lady?” He still will not look at me. I can’t tell if he means he should not know me, or he does not know me.

“Orrin, if you need to leave, to get out, Connor says, he says we can do it. Tonight. We’ll take care of everything. Whatever he’s done to you, we can fix.”

This time he looks at me, and I reach for his arm again, but he moves back. The wine in the pitcher he’s holding sloshes.

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk for a moment. Orrin, let me help you.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know you. I don’t know you, and you can’t help me,” he whispers. “Just stay away from me. Stay away, do you hear me? I can’t know you.” His eyes are fierce.

I hear people coming, and I reach for him again. “Please just come with me,” I beg, and then he does move closer, and I feel a spark of hope.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and then wine pours down the front of my dress as he tips it, stumbling, looking straight into my eyes. “My lady, I am so sorry. So sorry. Please, my lady, please forgive me,” he’s saying, and I don’t know what’s happening until I see red out of the corner of my eye.

Gantry’s red feast robe glitters as it billows around him, as he grabs for Orrin’s arm. Orrin’s brown sleeve slides up a little. I see patterns in angry red and white, runes to match my own.

“Clumsy!” the bishop shouts as he shakes Orrin. “Look what you’ve done!”

Orrin begs pardon in a dead voice, his head low.

“I am sorry, lady. My acolyte has ruined your gown.”

I curtsey low, feeling Gantry’s eyes burn into the top of my head, and sweat drips down along my own carved patterns.

I glance up to See Orrin’s scars glow a pale amethyst for a moment, see him flinch and gasp.

Servants are coming through the corridor now, bearing food and drink. I choke on words, then stammer, “My Lord Bishop,” I say, and stop. What do I say? “Yes, the gown, I, I will go and change,” I say, and hurry down the corridor to an exit, any exit. I end up in the front hall, and then run to Julianna’s rooms, my lungs and eyes burning. My hands grip the wall, the stair rails, to keep me upright on my shaky legs.