Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) (8 page)

“Are these woods so dangerous?” I asked, my tone all innocence. “For if that is the case, then I wonder why you would bring me here.”

“This forest is no more dangerous than the central market in Tarenmar — less, possibly, as at least here there is no danger of being swindled.” He poured some wine for himself and drank. “No, rather that I would not have prying ears listening to our conversation.”

“Is what you have to say to me so private?”

His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps. Does that frighten you?”

“Frighten? Hardly.” I sipped at my wine, hoping that I looked sufficiently casual. “At any rate, your behavior of the past few days suggests that, while you may have the morals of a tomcat in heat, you do not appear to intend me any direct harm. So what is it you have to say to me?”

At my remark about the tomcat, he scowled, but then his features relaxed into the sardonic grin I knew all too well. “Ah, I shall not debate you on that. And apparently you must have some concern for my reputation, or you would not have acted so quickly to hide the details of our sleeping arrangements.”

I did not bother to tell him that I had done so more to preserve my own hide. The last thing I wanted was him angry with me because his people had discovered that I did not share his bed. I cut myself a piece of bread, spread some blue-veined cheese on it, and took a bite.

He appeared somewhat nonplussed by my lack of response, but continued, “I will not bore you with an account of my country’s history, but I will say that to be the consort of the Mark of Eredor means a life of service, of involvement. We have no use for pretty figureheads who appear at state functions to serve some decorative purpose and then go back to embroidering pillowcases or whatever it is that highborn Sirlendian women do.”

“As to that, I wouldn’t know, either,” I interjected, “as I am neither full-blood Sirlendian nor highborn.”

“You may continue to deny your birthright if you like, but it does not change the fact that your father’s family is one of the greatest in Sirlende. No amount of hawking wine in the marketplace can change that.”

I didn’t bother to point out that, while my mother had carried on with managing the vineyards she’d inherited, she employed people to take our wine to the great market in Marestal. However, I also chose not to mention that I’d taken over some of her bookkeeping, once I’d proved myself to have a good head for figures. “I had never intended to be a figurehead, pretty or not, so if you are trying to provoke me in some way, you are definitely taking the wrong tack.”

He frowned a little at those words. Perhaps, coming from a land-locked country as he did, he was unfamiliar with sailing terms. But, being who he was, he did not appear to be put off for very long. “I am glad to hear that, for this afternoon I shall sit in my audience chamber and hear the grievances of my people — and you will sit there with me.”

The swallow of wine I had just taken seemed to sour in my mouth. Or perhaps it was simply that the thin Northern vintage didn’t measure up to the richer wines produced by my family’s vineyards. “I’ll what?”

“The consort always accompanies the Mark on audience days. I see no reason why you should be treated any differently.”

I could think of several hundred reasons why I should be treated differently, starting with how I was in North Eredor under duress, and therefore not someone inclined to offer an overly sympathetic ear to the grievances of its people. None of these arguments would work, though. I knew, as I watched Kadar’s false smile grow again, that I would be forced again to suffer yet another of his charades.

T
he audience chamber
was located in the same wing as the great hall where we had feasted and danced only the night before. Somehow that evening already seemed very far away, as if it had happened to someone other than myself. This room, I noticed as Kadar led me to the pair of high carved thrones on a dais at its far end, was smaller and narrower, with long benches arranged on each wall — presumably for the watching audience.

I took my seat, grateful for the new gown of green cut velvet Beranne had brought to me. The grey pearls that had belonged to Kadar’s mother circled my throat and crowned my head; I thought perhaps I looked like a consort, even if I didn’t feel much like one.

Once we were seated, the guards began to let in the observers. I hoped, as I watched the throngs enter and jostle for places on the benches, that they did not all have grievances to present, or we would be there for a very long time. Perhaps some of them had merely come to catch a glimpse of the new consort.

This thought made me sit up a little straighter in my chair, and I took in a deep breath. Beside me, Kadar looked impressive enough in a high-necked doublet of black wool, a band of silver set with a single faceted garnet holding his heavy dark hair back from his brow. He nodded to Althan, who stood at the foot of the dais. “We may begin.”

I had worried what my role in these proceedings would be, but apparently while my presence was required, my counsel was not. Several people came forth and stated their cases, which tended to be simple enough disputes over land ownership, or claims of grievances in various business dealings. Kadar listened to all the parties involved, asked more cogent questions than I had expected, and in all cases but one delivered the same judgment I would have given — had I been asked.

Not a figurehead?
I thought, considering my current role as a silent observer.
Perhaps he and I have different definitions of the term…

But then two men approached, one in the simply cut doublet and high boots that seemed to be the standard male garb in North Eredor, the other in a long tunic of a style that had been out of fashion even in the South for at least a decade. He had mid-brown hair and eyes, and was not as tall as most Northern men.

The Northerner bowed to Kadar and said, “Your Highness, I did not wish to approach you with such a petty matter, but the other party involved has proved so intractable that I had no choice but to bring my case to the Hall of Grievances.”

Kadar nodded. “Go on.”

“Highness, this man and I entered into a business dealing, but he has conspired to cheat me at every turn. Now I only wish to recoup my original investment, but he will not allow me even that much satisfaction.”

During this speech the man in the tunic had remained silent, but his brow had twisted and an expression of angry bewilderment crossed his features. Finally he burst out, “No cheat! Not — deal — ” And he trailed off into a flood of incomprehensible syllables.

…Incomprehensible to both Kadar and Althan, that was clear from the puzzled looks on both their faces. But I found I understood the brown-haired stranger well enough, once those first words awakened in my mind a vocabulary I had not used for some time.

“He says he is not the cheat,” I broke in. “He says that Master Haddimer here cheated him, and tried to renege on their deal.”

If I had suddenly sprouted wings and flown out of the chamber, I do not think I would have evoked a more astonished reaction from the Mark. His eyebrows lifted, and the incredulity was clear in his tone as he remarked, “‘He says’ — how do
you
know what he says?”

“Because he is speaking Selddish,” I replied calmly, then added in an undertone, so only he might hear my next words, “If you had bothered to learn anything about me, save who my relatives are, then you might have known that I have been schooled in many of the languages of the continent, along with mathematics and history and geography. At any rate, as we can now hear both sides of the story, I think we should continue.”

For a few seconds Kadar continued to stare at me, as if really looking at me for the first time. Then he nodded. “Yes.” He leaned forward. “Tell him to proceed.”

Perversely pleased I had been able to offer the Mark something of value besides my family connections, I turned to the man and asked in Selddish, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Which he did, launching into a lengthy and impassioned speech about how he had found himself overburdened with flax seed following the plague that had swept Seldd only the year before. In Marestal we had been able to escape the ravages of the disease, save for a small outbreak near the docks, but we had heard it devastated the lands east and north of us: Purth and Farendon and Seldd. As Seldd’s main export was its fine linen, I could see how, with more than a third of its population lost to the plague, there would be an excess of flax seed.

So this merchant, one Dhirne, had loaded up his pack animals and undertaken the perilous trek through the Opal Mountains’ one safe pass to bring his seed to North Eredor, where he might at least get enough money for it to see his family through the winter. He had met with Haddimer, a seed merchant, and struck as good a deal as he could, considering the language barrier. But when the day of payment came, he was given copper instead of the silver he was promised. The resulting row had gotten both men thrown out of the tavern where they were conducting their business, with the proprietor telling them to take their argument to the Hall of Grievances, or he’d set the City Watch on them.

I related all this to Kadar, who listened with narrowed eyes. As I concluded my translation of the Selddish man’s woes, Haddimer cut in angrily and said, “And you believe this, your Highness? It’s a pack of lies from beginning to end!”

Kadar straightened, mouth tight. I knew I would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of the glare he directed at the other man. “Are you calling the Mark’s consort a liar?”

Haddimer blanched. “No, your Highness — that is, I am certain her translation is accurate, but that Dhirne is lying to her.”

“Do you think he is lying?” Kadar asked me. He sounded as if he genuinely wanted to hear what I thought.

Here was one situation where I could use my magic, and do so quickly enough that no one need know what I had done. Again, it was a quiet spell, one that only required a few seconds of mental preparation; anyone watching me would have merely thought I closed my eyes to consider the question more deeply. But in that small space of time I was able to mouth the words without speaking them, uttering the spell that would reveal any falseness clinging to either of the two men. And so I saw in my mind’s eye the cool blue of truth enveloping the man from Seldd, while Haddimer’s outline bristled with the spiky yellowish hues of falsehood.

“No, he is not,” I said, after I reopened my eyes. “But Haddimer most definitely is.”

“You sound very certain.”

“I am.”

A considering expression on his face, Kadar turned away from me, back to the two men who awaited his verdict. For a long, uncomfortable moment he said nothing, and I swallowed against my unease. He had asked for my opinion, but that did not mean he intended to act on it. Besides, this was a case of the word of his subject against that of an outlander, a man from a country widely despised because it still practiced slavery, even in this enlightened age. How could I trust Kadar to believe me and rule against one of his own people?

Finally he spoke. “Haddimer.”

The merchant’s pale blue eyes gleamed. “Yes, your Highness?”

“You have taken advantage of a man who attempted to trade with you fairly, someone who has already suffered through more hardship than you can possibly comprehend. You will pay him every silver crown you owe him, as well as a penalty of twenty percent above and beyond the original price. And you will pay him by the end of the day tomorrow. You’ve already wasted enough of his time; I do not want him delayed so that he cannot get home before the mountain passes close for the winter.”

Haddimer’s mouth opened, as if he very much wanted to protest. He shut it without speaking as I began relating to Dhirne in rapid-fire Selddish what the Mark had just decreed. A look of terrible relief passed over the man’s face, and he dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the ground directly in front of the dais, even as he began to praise Kadar’s wisdom and my cleverness.

“Erm, he says thank you,” I told the Mark, whose lip twisted.

“I rather gathered that.”

Althan somehow managed to pry Dhirne off the floor, and usher both him and his erstwhile adversary down the aisle and out of the room. That seemed to be the conclusion of the afternoon’s grievances, for immediately afterward the spectators left their seats on the benches and exited the chamber as well. Kadar and I were left alone, save for the two men still standing guard at the entrance.

“What were you saying to yourself back there?”

A tremor of unease passed through me. I thought I had barely moved my lips while invoking the truth spell, but Kadar must have seen something. I hoped he did not notice my slight hesitation before I replied, “I was praying.”

That seemed to surprise him. His eyebrows lifted, and what might have been the beginnings of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I had no idea you were so devout.”

“Even those who do not think of themselves as devout may ask for assistance at certain times. God is always listening, even if you and I might not always hear what He has to say in return.”

“Ah, I had forgotten you most likely would be a follower of the Southern heresy.”

I didn’t bother to correct him. True, ages ago both North and South Eredor had shared a pantheon along with a name, and worship of the One was regarded as heresy. But the Great Cataclysm had sundered the beliefs of the two lands just as irrevocably as it had broken them north and south, forever separate. South Eredor had suffered the least from the effects of the mage wars and the Black Time that immediately followed. Acolytes of the One had prayed incessantly to be delivered from the darkness, and their prayers had been answered. Ever since, we in the South had turned away from the old gods and followed the One. Whether or not divine intervention was responsible for our salvation, I truly did not know. It seemed as good an explanation as any.

At any rate, better to confess to praying to a god Kadar despised than admit to casting a truth spell. “Whether it was God working through me or not, I did see the truth of the situation.”