Stained Glass Monsters (12 page)

"Is it always this crowded?" Sebastian
asked, for there were precious few spare seats.

"The first couple of days I was here,
when there were more classes, it didn't get so bad," she said.
"People would rush in, and gulp things down and then rush out. Now
they all sit around gossiping and blocking–"

She broke off as a loud scraping of
benches brought a sudden hush to the room. At one of the corner
tables everyone had stood up at once, and were walking to return
their plates, all very stiff-backed and correct. Sukata Illuma, who
had obviously just sat down, gave no sign that she'd even noticed
their departure, or the murmur of discomfort mixed with enjoyment
which ran through the room.

Kendall nearly lost her own balance when
Sebastian moved forward. He'd gone white, with spots of colour
highlighting his cheekbones. Really angry. And then he stalked
across the hall. Even balancing on the cane he managed dignity and
outrage with every step. Kendall trailed in his wake, spotting his
Ferumguard minders watching with the interest shared by the entire
room.

"May we join you?" Sebastian asked, and
didn't wait for an answer before sitting down opposite Sukata. "I'm
Sebastian. This is Kendall."

"Sukata," said Sukata.

Kendall suffered a slight shock on
seeing Sukata's expression. In the little time she'd been at the
Arkathan she'd learned Sukata was master of the art of being
correct, so perfect that all the slights and snobberies of students
and faculty had no power. Like all the Kellian, nothing seemed to
touch her. But she wasn't that way about Sebastian. She met his
determined eyes and actually changed colour. So extremely startled
and uncertain she was not quite able to hide it.

There was some noise from a nearby
table, and Sukata's expression flicked back to normal. But the talk
wasn't down to her. A tall boy, three or four years older, had
stood up and was staring at their small group. Beside him, a much
younger girl with the same fine, fair features was asking him
questions in an excited voice, demanding until he responded. The
girl bounced gleefully at his response, and wriggled out of her
seat.

She wasn't much more than ten years old,
dressed in a floaty wisp of rose silk. A fairy-princess, Kendall
thought, and realised how well that fitted when the girl ran
straight up to Sebastian and announced: "Justin says I have the
right to call you cousin."

"Do you?" Sebastian ran fingers absently
through his hair and blinked at the girl, then looked past her to
her elder brother, approaching with a little train of friends
behind him. With some difficulty he stood up, and bowed carefully.
"Exceedingly remote cousins, Your Highness."

"But the link's still there," said
Prince Justin. "And that's all that's important to Sera. She's been
longing to meet you." He laughed. "I can't say I haven't been more
than curious myself. May we join you?"

Kendall suspected Sebastian wasn't
altogether pleased by this development, but he agreed. The
eight-person table was quickly over-filled.

"Why did your sister snub Grandmama?"
Princess Sera asked, making mischief clear as day. Kendall's eyes
widened, then she settled back to enjoy the entertainment.
Sebastian hadn't become general gossip, but the royal family had
obviously been informed, and weren't overly shy about confronting
him. And Princess Sera had all the makings of a sugar-glossed
brat.

"I hadn't heard she had," Sebastian
said. He was still pale, but not at all nervous. "What makes you
think it?"

"Grandmama summoned her to audience, and
she said she was too busy and left!" Princess Sera made a great
play of looking shocked.

"Well, my sister does have to be at
certain places at certain times, even if that means missing out on
meeting your Grandmother. The incursions won't wait for her to
arrive."

"What is she actually doing?" Prince
Justin asked. "I've heard so many different things."

"Building a weapon," Sebastian said,
after a slight pause. "The same thing Tiandel used."

"Something to use against the monsters?"
Princess Sera's eyes were round and innocent, but Kendall wouldn't
trust her an inch.

"No, just against the Black Queen. The
Sentene and the Hand are dealing with the Eferum-Get." Sebastian
turned from the princess to the Kellian girl making herself
unobtrusive in the corner. "I wanted to ask you if you're related
to Captain Illuma. You look very like her."

"My mother."

"She saved my life. I need to thank her,
but haven't found a chance."

"It is her duty," Sukata replied ,
putting down her knife. Kendall was sure she wasn't the only one
who looked at the girl's hands. Like most of the Kellian seemed to,
Sukata clipped the nails of one hand, but left the other pointed
and alien.

"Maybe. Is duty any reason to honour her
less?" He turned his head to meet Prince Justin's eyes, and his
gaze was so uncompromising that Kendall heard a couple of indrawn
breaths. The prince flushed.

"I should get back," Sebastian
continued, struggling again to his feet. "Kendall, you don't mind
leading me?"

"Sure," Kendall said, taking a last
hasty mouthful, then pushing aside her plate. She had no intention
of remaining at the table to deal with the aftermath of that
stoush. Sukata, she noticed, wasted no time collecting the plates
and retreating herself.

"So what did that achieve?" she asked as
soon as they were out of the room.

"It made me feel better."

"Your sister snubs the Queen and you
turn your nose up at her heirs. Not really sensible."

"Maybe." He scrubbed a hand over his
face, and she noticed darkening shadows under his eyes. "I suppose
I lost my temper. He ranked everyone there, watched them act like
that, and made no protest. As good as countenancing it. He has a
responsibility toward the people who serve his family. Besides,
that wretched little girl was working toward asking if Ren really,
truly wants her Grandmama's throne, and I didn't want to dignify
that idiocy with an answer."

"Do you think that's where she was
going?" Kendall wouldn't have been surprised. "Not that you acting
like the whole room was beneath you isn't going to put fuel on that
fire."

"The entire question's bizarre. The last
thing I thought we'd have to contend with. Though–" He smiled. "The
Surcleres were famed for two things: magic and arrogance. If it's
the family reputation driving this, I guess I should stop trying to
live up to it."

He was leaning on her more by the time
they reached the infirmary, and dropped heavily to the bed,
dislodging a couple of books. Kendall picked up the nearest. It was
written, not printed, and even when she made the effort to decipher
the scratchings, it made little sense. Something about the way the
Eferum was a globe around the world, but inside and through and
behind or similar nonsense.

"Control's the thing you need to work
for now," Sebastian said, kicking off his shoes. "You work on
control your entire life, but the least you should aim for is to be
able to move an object with the same exactitude as you would with
your hands. It's amazingly hard to manage, so start with just
lifting and holding the pebble in place. Hold it unmoving as long
as you can. Hugely dull, of course, but it will make a change from
your Sigillic dictionary."

"What do I need to be able to do to be a
Circle-Turner?"

"The basic ones about villages, you
mean? Not much. Get a proper understanding of the sigils involved –
there's about thirty in those 'don't cross' circles. Beyond that,
just have enough control to maintain a flow of power to activate
sigils. Most of those Circle-casters are as much mages as a boy
with a broom is a knight."

"Speaking of Surclere arrogance."
Kendall shook her head when he grinned. "But how strong do you have
to be? Nothing like your sister, I guess, but – are mages ever not
powerful enough to turn circles?"

"I don't suppose most travelling Turners
have even summoned a focus, which is a good deal harder. The virtue
of those circles is built up with constant reinforcement, not a
single big casting. There's no huge power requirement." He gave her
a swift glance. "The pebble felt like a mountain, right? That's not
a gauge of your strength – you're using a limb you've never even
felt before. It's like comparing a baby's strength to an
adult's."

"Then how can I tell how strong I'll be
when I've practiced more? It matters, doesn't it?"

"To a degree. The better mages have more
strength in their focuses than intrinsically. The Force magic
exercises will allow you to develop some of your natural potential.
That will take quite a long time, and should also give you some
idea of how much fine control you're able to achieve. Strength,
control and sense are the three basics. Willpower is their
foundation. And by then you'll probably know enough about magic to
know if you're really a mage or not. Presuming they ever give you
something other than a dictionary to read."

"Whether I'm a mage or not? Is this more
Surclere snootiness?"

"Perhaps. Are you really a mage if you
just follow the patterns set out by other people? The difference
between a painter and someone who copies other people's paintings.
Most of these people calling themselves mages, even in a place like
this, just follow well-travelled paths. They'll never cast a
Sigillic someone hasn't written for them, they don't even bother to
try Thought magic. Symbolic they run scared from. Most of the major
castings will be beyond them because those castings aren't just a
matter of following a recipe, of writing a bunch of sigils and
thrusting power into them. You need to be able to think, to see how
it all fits together, and glimpse more."

There was an impassioned little throb in
his voice. Kendall looked from him to the piles of musty books, dry
and dull. "You really love this stuff, don't you?"

"It's what I am. I couldn't stop if I
tried. Even Ren, who swears that if she lives through this she's
never going to cast again, and will spend the rest of her life
lying on a couch reading novels and eating cream cakes. She
wouldn't be able to go more than a couple of weeks before some idea
occurs to her and she has to experiment with it."

"It's what you are." Kendall considered
him doubtfully, then shrugged. "Well, even those broomstick knights
get paid more than enough. If you're right about the strength,
that's a reason either way to see what kind of mage I can be."

"I've probably made you some enemies,"
he said, the thought obviously just occurring to him.

"Maybe. But it was fun to watch."

"Seriously, though. My fault for getting
angry."

Kendall thought about it, then shrugged.
"I know where to bite to make people let go, and they've rules here
that make it risky for the students to hurt each other. They
already ignore me, thank Fel. I guess they could try and get me
kicked out."

Sebastian leaned back on his pillows
looking tired and concerned. Not just making noises, but genuinely
worried that he'd caused her trouble.

"There's no cost to me, see? I didn't
particularly want to come here, and it would probably suit me
better to go find someone a bit lower level who would teach me
instead of giving me memory exercises. Whether I'm a 'real' mage or
not, it's a bankable talent, and I'm smart enough to get myself
'prenticed pretty easy. And if I don't like it – well, I can read
and write and run errands."

"And you were envying Ren." He sighed,
his eyelids sagging. "You've something neither of us have."

"What's that?"

"The ability to walk away."

Darasum House, the home of Earl Forinth,
rested white and shimmering at the crest of a gentle hill. Before
it, in what Rennyn was told was the Verisian style, was a great
sweep of grassland exactly bisected by a series of terraced,
stone-edged pools stretching halfway down to Carnell Lake.
Spear-slim cypress in pale stone urns marched down the centre of
the pool, with a rigidly kept herbal border keeping exact pace on
either side. Between house and pools bloomed a rose garden of
scrupulous symmetry.

The Earl had been informed well in
advance that an incursion had been predicted to take place on his
estate. He was a bluff, slightly pompous man in his forties, all
rosy cheeks and moustaches. Rennyn had found his mixture of affront
and stifled pleasure in the proceedings rather endearing. Then
Solace's focus had led them a third of the way down that
magnificent, carefully-tended stretch of grass and the day had
ground to a halt.

Feeling sorry for both the Earl and the
two Hand mages trying to calm him, Rennyn wandered back up the lawn
and explored the roses. She was joined by the Earl's wife, Lady
Risdale, a heavyset, red-faced woman who told her the names of
different flowers and watched imperturbably as her husband
gesticulated and shouted in the distance while the mass of
Ferumguard and Sentene waited to one side.

"How very out of place they look," Lady
Risdale remarked. "Like some fantastical flock brought on the wind.
Shall I go calm him? You must be anxious to prepare."

"The breach isn't due till late
afternoon." Rennyn glanced up at the high sun. "This parkland is
worth a few minutes' protest."

"Grass will grow back. And it will give
him something to point to and boast of." Lady Risdale smiled
indulgently. "He has been very excited, and will remember the
alternative soon enough. He will dine out on what he sees tonight
for years."

Rennyn glanced sideways at the
noblewoman, at the lines of care and humour on her face. "Don't,"
she said. "Watch them build it if you wish, but not the rest. Go
into the village for the evening. And send your servants away."