The Queen of Mages (39 page)

Edon seemed annoyed at having to wait for
conversation to die down again. “Tomorrow the first such party will
travel east, along the foot of the Black Mountains, toward the
coast. Their activities will not be secret. Instead they will
advertise their purpose, so as to attract those who share my power.
Tell them that the king wishes them to come to Callaston to be
treated as honored guests, and to help us both better understand
our power. Tell them also that we will put them up in the palace or
nearby, and that their families should come as well. We will find
space for them all in Callaston.”

Edon’s head dipped a little as he leaned
forward, looking like a bird of prey about to descend from its
perch. “If they refuse, kill them.”

There were no murmurs this time, just a
collective holding of breath. Mason was glad he was back against
the wall, or he might have staggered. Those Edon sought would not
all be amenable to his invitation. Mason did not envy whoever would
be sent to confront them. He could not imagine trying to kill
someone who could do what Edon could.

“Wardens Carver and Ogden, you will lead the
first party and leave at dawn. Take a score of soldiers with you.
Anyone you find who has power like mine should be dispatched to
Elibarran at once, with an escort. You may pull men from garrisons
to replenish your own escort.” He waved dismissal, and sat down in
his chair. Sir Edvan crept close to the king and whispered
fiercely, but Mason dove through the crowd toward where Carver and
Eben Ogden already had their heads together.

Carver, for once, did not glare at Mason’s
approach. Instead he jerked his head toward the door. Mason and
Ogden followed him outside, and Mason began to speak, but Carver
held up a finger and led the two younger Wardens well away from the
king’s tent and the crowd of perplexed knights and nobles who now
milled in a confused mass before it.

When they were clear, Carver faced them.
“Mad, this is,” he said.

“I agree, but our path is set,” Ogden said.
“I suppose I should pick out the men.”

“And I suppose that leaves Veldis in
charge,” Mason said. Adam Veldis was the fourth and final Warden
the king had brought along. He spoke little and did less,
preferring to drink and gamble with the rank-and-file soldiers.
He’d chosen Chaos. His impiety irritated Mason every time he
thought of him.

“Aye, Veldis. Not that he’ll have a damn bit
o’ interest in what ye do, so ye’re on yer own,” Carver said.

Ogden thumbed his chin thoughtfully. “If
this plan of his majesty’s works, I’d wager he’s planning to turn
these… people… into their own force. They’ll have their own
organizational structure, their own resources, their own political
power base. Ebersbach isn’t going to like that.”

“Fer once I’d agree with th’ old bastard,”
Carver said. “Come on. We won’t be gettin’ much sleep t’night.” He
tromped away.

Ogden waited a moment, then whispered
urgently to Mason. “You’ll be on your own, lad,” he said, not
unkindly. “Watch. Listen. And make damned sure Ebersbach hears
every word of this when you get back to Callaston.”

Mason had already known to do just that, but
he nodded anyway. “I will see to it, I swear. May the Caretaker
protect you,” he said.

“All of us,” Ogden said, and trod away.

———

Mason Iris and Adam Veldis stood stiffly
behind Edon. They watched as he was greeted by Duke Gulhin Arkhail,
barely a man, and son of the late, traitorous Loram Arkhail. The
king and the duke exchanged formalities, then sat facing each other
across a long, narrow table in the duke’s receiving room in the
castle Thornstar.

They listened as the duke reaffirmed his
house’s fealty to the king. In turn the king reminded the young
duke that as long as House Arkhail remained obedient, he would
forgive them the late duke’s crime, and hold no grudge. Gulhin
seemed immensely relieved by this; Mason thought he saw the boy
shaking in his chair.

House Arkhail’s ancient seneschal, a man
named Elmer Brahim, had joined them, wobbling even with his cane to
help him along. He sat next to his duke, bowing slightly to both
duke and king. There were a few moments of polite chatter, and then
Lord Brahim said that the Dowager Duchess wanted to speak with her
son. Duke Gulhin excused himself and left the old seneschal with
the king.

When Gulhin was gone, Edon’s aspect changed.
He’d worn a mask of cold formality, but now he leaned forward and
his voice became more urgent. “I received your message about Lord
Tarian and Lady Estaile.”

Mason glanced sidelong at the king. What was
this about?

“Indeed?” Brahim said. “I had feared my
courier might have missed you.”

“The courier met us on the road just after
we left Callaston. Why did you not detain Tarian and Estaile, if
you knew I was after them, as you said in your message?”

Brahim shrugged. “Call it an old man’s
instinct, sire. Something about them struck me as odd. I determined
it would be better to be rid of them than to try to hang onto them.
If that was the wrong choice, well, I’m the only one to blame.
Neither his grace nor the Dowager ever knew they were here.”

“Have you heard anything of them since?”
Edon demanded.

“I had word not three days ago that they
visited Tyndam Town, making no effort to conceal themselves. I
couldn’t say what mischief they got up to there, sire.”

Edon nodded, considering, and changed the
subject. The meeting wound down after that, with discussion of more
mundane matters that drifted past Mason’s ears. Instead he thought
about the odd conversation about this lord, Tarian. Tarian… that
was the ruling house of Hedenham County, was it not? And Edon had
gone to Hedenham, shortly after his return from Gravensford. And
there was that rumor, about a lady…

Eventually the king stood and took his
leave. As they were about to go, the old seneschal called out
again.

“Your majesty, forgive me, but there is one
last thing. One of your Wardens dropped in for a visit a few days
past. We’ve been honored to put him up, of course, but, er, he’s
scaring the children, you see…”

Edon actually laughed at this. What he found
funny, Mason had no idea. “Send him to us. I can find a use for
him.”

There were several hundred Wardens scattered
across the breadth of Garova. It took a dozen clerks at the Bastion
just to keep track of them. Mason wondered which of his brother
Wardens this man might be.

———

He was disturbed to learn, an hour later as
the sun sank toward the horizon, that the Warden in question was
Jack Penrose. They met in the castle’s entry hall; Penrose waited
there, spine straight and eyes searching. Mason had been sent to
fetch the man and bring him to Edon, as if a page couldn’t have
done the job just as well.

Mason nodded as he came to a halt a few
yards away. “Warden Penrose.”

“Who are you?” Penrose asked suspiciously,
as if Mason might have stolen his Warden’s armor from someone
else.

This annoyed Mason further, and he puffed
out his chest for the introduction. “Mason Iris, Warden of
Aendavar. Aspect of Despair,” he added, daring Penrose to make some
crack about his choice of Aspect.

Penrose said nothing, his dark eyes boring
into Mason, so Mason went on. “His majesty requests your presence.”
He spun on his heel and strode off through the halls.

Penrose was famous among Wardens—or rather,
notorious. Rumor said he’d become a Warden under suspicious
circumstances—fleeing some crime in the southwest, supposedly—and
he had not endeared himself to other Wardens with his brusque
attitude and suspicious nature. But he was also famed for his
relentlessness, which had been put to great use in hunting down
bandits and criminals.

Some said he was a shade too relentless. The
man could not come up in conversation without someone mentioning
the stories about suspected criminals that had died in his custody
before Penrose could bring them to trial. Jack Penrose seemed to be
a law unto himself.

They came to where Edon sat ensconced with
Sir Edvan and his other knights. They had taken over the castle’s
formal dining hall, and though they occupied only a fraction of it,
the duke and his family wouldn’t dare use it while Edon was
present. The king was at the head of the duke’s table, with his
advisors on either side, finishing a light meal while they looked
over parchments. Mason led the way down the long, cold hall, and
came to a stop just as Edon raised his eyes. Mason introduced
Penrose to the knights and nobles.

“Your majesty,” Warden Penrose said,
sounding very much like he found nothing majestic at all.

If it bothered Edon, he didn’t show it.
“Warden Penrose. I have a task for you.” The king explained the
purpose and method of the recruitment party he’d sent out from Cold
Hills County. “You will lead the next such party. And I have an
additional task. A lord and lady went east from here, more than a
month ago. The lady has the same power I do, so be cautious, as she
bears no love for me. I want her brought to Callaston by whatever
means are necessary.
Alive.
”

Penrose nodded. “It will be done, sire.”

“And take Warden Iris here with you. I mean
for the Wardens to lead this effort, for now. Warden Veldis will
accompany me back to Callaston. Sir Edvan,” he added, his eyes
flicking to the knight, who stiffened suddenly to have the king’s
gaze on him. “See that the Wardens have all the resources and men
they need for this task.” He waved dismissal and went back to his
parchment.

Harlan Carver was not here, so Mason made a
venture. “Sire, what crime has this lady committed?”

Edon paused in his reading and turned to
look up at Mason. “Disobeying her king,” he said in a tone as cold
as a glacier. Mason said no more. He bowed and turned to follow
Penrose and Edvan from the hall.

He cursed silently as he went. There was so
much he had to tell Warden-Commander Ebersbach, and now that would
be delayed. Weeks, months. Could he send a letter with Adam Veldis?
He didn’t know the man well enough to trust him. The things Mason
had to say to Ebersbach would not please the king, and Veldis might
let slip that such a detailed report was making its way to the
Bastion of Spirit.

As they emerged into the day’s failing light
and headed for the army’s camp outside Thorncross, Mason prayed
that Ebersbach had other sources of information. The
Warden-Commander wasn’t going to hear from Mason for a long
time.

“I’m only saying that it will serve us
better if they know.”

“You promised me, repeatedly, that you
wouldn’t tell anyone about your power.” Dardan glowered from the
kitchen doorway.

Amira plunked the knife down next to the
carrots and faced her husband. “Well then it was a foolish promise!
They’re going to find out eventually. It won’t stay a secret, not
from everyone.”

“That’s why it’s dangerous for us to stay
here,” Dardan said. Amira heard heat, and maybe a little fear, in
his voice. “People aren’t going to react well.”

“They will—” She stopped. It was no use
going over all this again. She returned to attacking the carrots,
and heard footsteps a moment later as Dardan retreated, probably to
go brood in the sitting room. Why couldn’t he understand? Edon
wasn’t hiding his power, and there were other mages out there as
well. It was only a matter of time before everyone knew about them.
Better that the folk of Stony Vale learn about mages from
her—gentle, sweet, charming—than from a monster like Edon. But
Dardan wouldn’t hear of it.

Amira sighed and focused on the vegetables.
She’d never really had to cook for herself—her mother had been able
to afford a cook and maid for her townhouse, when Amira was
little—but it gave her something to do while waiting for Garen to
show up. Each night, after the smithy closed up and he had dinner
with the Walkers, Garen came by the cottage so that he and Amira
could practice their powers together. Dardan always sat and
watched, even if he had nothing to contribute.

The cottage, only a few minutes’ walk from
the square of Stony Vale, had belonged to an old widow who’d died
recently. All her remaining kin lived far away, so a neighboring
widow, old Clarys, looked after the place. She’d agreed to let
Amira and Dardan stay there in exchange for keeping it tidy.

During the days, Amira made an effort to get
to know as many of the townsfolk as possible. Even if she couldn’t
reveal her power, at least she could lay the groundwork. If Dardan
did change his mind, or her hand were forced by circumstances, she
wanted to be prepared.

So she socialized with the neighbors,
implying that Dardan came from wealthy parents and had struck out
on his own with his doting wife in tow. She hinted that they might
settle permanently in Stony Vale. This endeared them to a great
many people, who appreciated the prosperity that a wealthy man
could bring to the town. Amira made sure to spend visibly: she
bought dresses, blouses, underclothes, and a proper bodice from a
local seamstress, and put her vest and trousers aside for a while.
As much as she liked the garments, the townsfolk would accept her
more easily if she were dressed normally.

Most of them were pleasant enough, quite
willing to chat with a beautiful stranger. Especially the menfolk.
A few treated her with indifference or contempt, but she let that
roll off her back.
You can’t please everyone.

One to whom Amira could not endear herself
was Constable Adams. No matter how polite she was to the man, he
glowered and acted rudely. A few days after their arrival,
Magistrate Baxter had come to the cottage to return Amira and
Dardan’s swords, with Constable Adams at his side. Baxter left them
with a stern but polite warning that no foolishness would be
tolerated. When his back was turned, Constable Adams spat at her
feet.

———

A week after their arrival, Amira went for a
walk in the woods. To the north and east of Stony Vale the land was
cleared for miles, farms and sheepfolds stretching to the coast,
but to the west a thick old forest came up almost to the edge of
the town. Towering, solemn sentinel pines shaded the undergrowth
with their boughs.

The forest held an immense silence. Amira
loved it. She spent the whole morning there after Dardan declined
to join her. He’d wanted to go for a ride, he said. He was still
grumpy that they’d stayed in Stony Vale instead of continuing on to
Seawatch; he claimed Duke Eltasi would help them. Dardan told her
often how House Eltasi and House Relindos had no love for one
another.

Well, Eltasi could wait. Amira had found a
real live mage here in Stony Vale, and she wasn’t about to give
Garen up.

She threaded between the pines, struggling
to enjoy the serenity of the forest while another part of her
brooded about Dardan. She happened upon a little clearing, and
noticed two boys, maybe six or seven years old, fighting with
sticks and shouting merrily. Amira stopped and leaned against a
tree, watching them with a smile on her lips.

After a minute, she heard a querying voice
in the distance. A woman’s voice, in the tone of a mother ready to
scold her children. The woman emerged into the clearing: a youngish
brunette, flush from exertion, striding purposefully toward the
boys.

They stopped, stick-swords dangling at their
sides, heads hung low. Amira couldn’t quite make out the woman’s
words, but her meaning was obvious:
You boys are in trouble.
Come home right now.

They started to follow, just as Amira
glimpsed something moving in the trees beyond them. What was it?
Brown, and large, and padding along on four feet—

A bear. A big one, its fur almost black in
the shade. The woman swiveled her head at the sound of its
footsteps, and she gasped. By instinct or reason, she moved between
it and the children and backed away, keeping them behind her.

The bear’s head came up as it snuffled at
the air. Amira’s heart thudded in her chest as the bear padded
forward. The woman kept backing up. The children were trying to
see, and finally one of them realized what it was and shrieked. The
other boy did as well, and then they were both crying. The woman
tried to shush them, while keeping the bear in sight.

The beast growled low, and had closed to no
more than twenty feet from the woman. She had nothing in her hands,
not even so much as a kitchen knife.

Amira felt her feet moving. She’d been
watching it unfold, like a minstrel’s drama, but this was no man
dressed in furs, lurching about for the amusement of a common
room’s audience. That bear was well and truly interested in
them.

The bear either didn’t notice her approach
or didn’t care, because it growled suddenly and lurched forward.
Amira didn’t think: she flung out a silver bead and pushed as much
energy into it as she could. The bear’s head exploded in a shower
of blood. It flopped to the ground, dead in an instant.

The woman had been silent, her voice perhaps
paralyzed by fear, but now she screamed and stumbled back, knocking
over one of the children, who wailed all the louder.

Amira hurried forward. “It’s all right!” she
said, her own voice loud in her ears. The brunette had begun to
struggle back to her feet, and stopped halfway up to swivel around
and look. Amira’s blood felt on fire, but she forced herself to
smile, and repeated herself as calmly as she could. “It’s all
right. It’s over.”

She knelt down by the boy who hadn’t fallen
over, the younger of the two. He stared at her with big brown eyes,
as wide as the sky, and then flung his arms around her and sobbed
loudly.

The young woman breathed heavily as she
looked over at the bear again, as if worrying that it might get up
and come after them. After a long minute, she got to her feet and
picked up the boy she’d knocked over, and they clutched each other
tight. The woman’s eyes came to rest on Amira.

Amira felt compelled to break the silence.
“Are you all right?”

She nodded once. “Did you do that?” Her
terror hadn’t left completely; perhaps one threat had simply been
replaced with another.

“Um. Yes. It seemed the right thing to
do.”

The woman looked over at the bear again.
“How?” She still clutched the older boy to her; he’d stopped crying
and now watched Amira curiously. The younger boy had drifted to his
mother’s side, but seemed more interested in the dead bear than the
conversation.

Amira almost spoke, but stopped herself.
I promised.

To the black spirits with that.
This
woman had a right to know. She could deal with Dardan later. “I
have a… a gift, you could call it. I don’t know where it came
from.” She paused. “My name is Amira.”

“I’ve seen you,” the woman said. “Around
town. At the shops. I’m Mari. This is Josiah.” She squeezed her son
a little tighter. “That’s Henry, over there.” The younger boy paid
them no heed; he’d crept close to the dead bear and was now poking
it with a stick.

“Perhaps we ought to get out of the woods,”
Amira suggested, and Mari did not argue. She clutched her boys’
hands tight and led the way to a house a stone’s throw from the
edge of the trees. Amira thought the forest could stand to be
cleared much farther back, if there were bears willing to come that
close to the town. Someone had gotten a start; there were a score
or more of decaying stumps between the house and the woods.

There were two young girls inside the tidy
little house, one who must be ten or eleven and another who was at
most three. The older girl seemed to have been looking after the
younger while Mari had gone out to find her boys. Mari introduced
them as Anna and Gwendolyn.

Mari looked not much older than Amira, but
with all these children she must be near on thirty. She offered
Amira some water and bread. The bread had gone a little stale, but
Amira accepted it graciously.

The boys seemed to have recovered from their
adventure, so Mari sent them outside to play. “But I’ll do to you
what that bear didn’t, if you go near those trees again.” She
pointed at a leather strap hanging from the wall. Henry and Josiah
glanced at it with fearful eyes before skittering outside. Mari
sent the girls out after them and watched them all through the
kitchen window for a few moments as they ran around in the dirt.
Soon her eyes drifted over to Amira, who sat at the table.

Amira had been considering what to say. She
saw no hostility on Mari’s face, just curiosity mixed with caution.
“Well?” Mari said.

Amira gave an abbreviated explanation: the
power had come upon her one day, and she’d been learning to use it
since. She had no idea where it came from. She said she’d come
across others who had it, but did not name them. Mari said very
little during all this, only wiped absently at some plates as Amira
spoke.

“Does all this frighten you?” Amira asked.
She really had no idea what the woman thought. The bear attack must
have been terrifying to Mari, but like her boys she’d recovered
quickly.

Mari shook her head. “You seem honest. I
don’t see bad in you. What does your husband say?”

Amira shrugged. “He wants me to keep it a
secret. But after what happened out there… It wouldn’t have been
fair to keep it from you.”

“Hm. Well it’s no secret now.” She glanced
out the window. “The boys’ll talk,” Mari said, “no matter how much
I swear to thrash them. And then people will ask questions.”

“Then tell them the truth.” Amira felt
emboldened. Dardan was going to have to deal with people knowing
the truth sooner or later. Why hand fate the reins?

Mari nodded. “I will. But see that your
husband don’t feel betrayed or he’ll brood for weeks, if he’s like
most men.”

———

It was barely two days before the first
questions came. Amira was at the greengrocer’s shop; Tim Thorn was
his name, a friendly, portly fellow forever offering samples of his
wares. Amira had never known there were so many varieties of
turnip.

A tall, thick-armed man with a mop of amber
hair came in the door, and he immediately locked eyes with Amira,
but seemed reluctant to approach. Finally she strode over to him,
impatient for him to stop staring. “Yes?”

“You’re… My wife said you saved her from a
bear.” His face showed that he only half-believed it.

“You must be Mari’s husband.” She held out
her hand. “I’m Amira.”

“Hugh Hamm.” He shook her hand gently, as if
afraid he might break it. Her hands were dainty compared to his
enormous fists, but really, she wasn’t made of porcelain. “The
boys… they said you done witchcraft.” He spoke quietly enough that
Tim Thorn couldn’t overhear.

“Something like that,” Amira said lightly.
“It’s nothing to be scared of. Some people are strong, some very
wise… I can do this.” She held out her palm, and made a tiny flame
dance above it, much too small to be frightening. Hugh’s eyebrows
climbed high, but he leaned forward to inspect the flame for a
moment. Abruptly he nodded and left.

It was a day later that Hugh Hamm came to
the cottage in the morning. Dardan answered the door before Amira
could get to it, and when Hugh asked for her, Dardan pivoted to
stare at her. “Excuse me a moment,” he said to their visitor, and
closed the door while Hugh tried to peer inside, confused. “Do you
know what this is about?”

Amira pressed her lips together. She hadn’t
told Dardan anything. Butterflies batted her stomach.
You made
your bed, girl.
Why had she been so cavalier about it? She’d
known this would happen eventually.

She took a deep breath and told the story to
Dardan: the forest, the bear, and how Mari had wanted to know what
happened. “I couldn’t very well lie to her face.”

“Yes you bloody well could have!” Dardan
shouted. “It’s as if you deliberately sought out a circumstance
that would allow you to reveal yourself.”

“Oh, so I followed a bear around until it
attacked someone?”

“You know very well what I mean.” Dardan
glanced at the door. “What does this fellow want?”

“I have no idea. He’s Mari’s husband.”

“Does he know too?”

Amira couldn’t meet Dardan’s eyes any
longer. “Yes.”

He let out a long sigh, then turned and
opened the door again. Hugh stood there, his hand half-raised as if
he meant to knock again. “Er… I could come back.”