The Innocent Mage (4 page)

He was smiling again. ‘Dathne.’

She offered him a scarecrowish curtsey, all knees and elbows. ‘Forgive me for intruding, sir, but I saw what happened. I trust Your Highness is unharmed?’

‘Aside from the odd bruise to my posterior — and my pride,’ said the prince, rubbing one hip. ‘I should know better than to go tumbling off like that.’

She shrugged. ‘Accidents happen. Sir, if I may be so impertinent … Matt was saying only last night that what with young Tolliver going back to his family’s farm, he could do with another pair of hands about the stables.’

‘Was he indeed?’ The prince turned to Asher. ‘Well?’

Asher stared. ‘Well, what? Sir?’

‘My stable meister is a good man. Strict, but fair. All the lads like him.’ When Asher didn’t reply, the prince added, impatiently, ‘I’m offering you a job.’

‘I were goin’ to ask around in the Livestock Quarter.’

‘Well then,’ said the prince, grinning, ‘I’ve saved you some shoe leather, haven’t I? So. Are you interested?’

Careful, careful. Only a fool dives headfirst into strange waters. ‘What if I am?’

The prince shrugged. ‘Then you’re hired.’ He nodded at the woman, pleased. ‘A lucky coincidence, Dathne.’

Her lips curved in a faint smile. ‘Yes, Your Highness. Would you like me to see him safe to Matt? You’re on your way somewhere, I think.’

‘On my way and horribly late,’ said the prince. ‘So yes. You could take him up to the Tower. Thank you, Dathne.’ Gathering his reins, he slipped one booted toe into the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle with a lithe grace. ‘Tell Matt to get Asher settled in, and have him send, for Nix to see to that cut. You can start your duties proper in the morning, Asher. All right?’

Taken aback by all the brusque efficiency, Asher nodded. ‘Aye. Sir.’

‘Certainly, Your Highness,’ said the bony woman.

‘And after you leave the Tower, Dathne, you could stop by the palace and see if the queen is free to speak with you. I believe there’s a book she’s looking for.’

Another curtsey. ‘It would be my pleasure, Your Highness.’

‘Excellent,’ said the prince, and nudged his horse forward.

Asher stared after him, mouth agape. ‘Wait a minute! You can’t just give me a job and then ride off without so much as a —’

‘I can, you know,’ the prince said over his shoulder. ‘It’s one of the few advantages of being royal.’

‘Wait a minute!’ Asher shouted, and hustled after him, ignoring a handful of staring bystanders and the distantly hovering Grimwold. ‘You ain’t said how much you’ll pay me!’

The prince swung his horse round. ‘Twenty trins a week, plus suitable work clothes, bed and meals.’

Asher choked. Twenty trins? Twenty trins} Da had on!’ ever paid him seven, and nearly not that, what with all brother Zeth’s complaining about him being the younges with no family of his own to feed. He took a deep breath ‘Thirty!’ ;

The prince laughed. ‘Thirty?’ \

‘I saved your precious Ballodair, didn’t I? Sir?’

Another laugh. ‘And I can see your act of derring-do is going to cost me dearly. Twenty-five, and not a cuick more,’ Tell Matt. Anything else? Say no.’

‘No,’ said Dathne, who’d joined them. ‘Good-day, Your Highness.’

Asher watched the prince ride out of sight, dumbfounded, then turned to stare at the skinny, interfering woman who’d just got him a job in the Prince of Lur’s stables for the unheard-of sum of twenty-five trins a week, plus clothes and bed and board.

She grinned. ‘Well, well. It looks like I’m stuck witl introducing you to Matt, so let’s get it done, shall we? I’m very busy bookseller and I don’t have all day.’ She snapped her fingers under his nose and turned on her heel. ‘Folloi me.’

The wine-soaked, bloodstained silk handkerchief w; dry now. Asher shoved it into his pocket and followed.

For all that she was a good head shorter than he, Ash’ found himself scuttling to keep up with the womar impatient haste along the rising High Street that led, apparently, to the palace. The roadway was lined with shops; he would’ve liked to stop for a minute, have a stickybeak through their sparkling windows, but the sinkin’ woman just kept forging ahead as though a shark had plans to swallow her for supper.

‘So what’s this Matt like then, eh?’ he asked, hitching his knapsack back onto his shoulder for the fourth time.

‘You heard His Highness,’ she replied. ‘He’s an excellent fellow. You’ll like him.’ She spared him a sidelong glance. ‘The question is, will he like you?’

That stung. ‘Ain’t no call for him not to be likin’ me! Reckon 1 be as -good a man any day as some fancy prince’s

stable meister.’

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?’ Taking him by the sleeve she tugged him off the main thoroughfare and down a quieter side street lined with balconied private dwellings. Just as Hemp had claimed, they were toweringly tall and painted all different colours. ‘This way.’

Asher stopped staring at one high, narrow house painted yellow — yellow — and stared at the skinny woman instead, suddenly distrustful. He pulled his sleeve free and slowed, almost halting. ‘Where are we goin’? I thought we were headin’ for the palace.’

‘We are, more or less,’ she replied. ‘His Highness hasn’t lived in the palace itself since his majority. He has his, own separate establishment in the palace grounds now. Going this way saves time.’ She favoured him with a sly grin. ‘Mind you, if I weren’t in a rush I would take you the long way round. Make sure you were in a suitably humbled frame of mind before meeting Meister Matt.’

Asher scowled. ‘What did the prince say your name were again? Mistress Clever Clogs?’

Surprisingly, that made her laugh. ‘It’s Dathne,’ she said,

and bustled on.

‘Ha.’ With a leap he blocked her pell-mell progress along the quiet street. ‘And why would you be interested ii doin’ a favour for me, eh, Mistress Dathne? You don’i know me from a hole in the ground.’

Eyebrows raised again, she looked him up and down ‘Who said the favour was for you? I thought to help Matt out — but if you’re going to be this disagreeable, could k I’ll think again.’

‘Y’can’t!’ said Asher, alarmed, feeling those precious twenty-five weekly trins trickling through his fingers. ‘Tk prince said —’

‘Whatever he said can as easily be unsaid. He doesn’t interfere with Matt’s running of the stables, so long as he’s happy with how the horses are looking. And trust me, His Highness is very happy. If Matt says he won’t have you then you’ll be out on your ear, Meister Fisherman, and all forttf sake of a little civility. Is that what you want?’

After a struggling moment, Asher shook his head ‘Never said that. I just like to know where I stand, Dathne That’s all. Don’t like owin’ folk. Especially strangers.’

She favoured him with an enigmatic smiled ‘But we’t not strangers, Asher. And as for owing me … well.’ Pushin him to one side, she started walking again. ‘I’m sure if I pi my mind to it, I’ll be able to come up with some way fc you to pay me back.’

Asher stared after her, mouth open. Did she mean .. He hoped not. Skinny lemon-tongued shrews weren’t h catch of mackerel, not by a netful they weren’t. And then 1 pushed the thought aside, because she was turning anoth corner and in a moment he’d have lost her, and what kii of an impression would that make, eh, with his twenty-fi trins still hanging in the balance?

Hoisting his knapsack to safety yet again, he hurried catch up.

The palace grounds were enormous. Stretching the entire width of the walled City, they were girded by an impressive pale cream sandstone wall with a number of entrances each guarded by a pair of liveried Olken resplendent in crimson and gold. The two sentries decorating the gates that Dathne led him towards straightened at their approach, smiling.

‘Morning to you, Mistress Dathne,’ they murmured, waving her under the stone archway with a single, disciplined glance for the unkempt stranger tagging at her heels.

‘And to you, Pamfret, Brogan,’ Dathne replied. Taking Asher’s elbow again, she hustled him along a raked blue gravel pathway that wound through lavish garden beds.

After the hubbub of the market square and their breathless rush up the sloping High Street, the garden’s tranquillity was like a cool draught of ale. Asher reclaimed his elbow and slowed, sucking in the perfumed air. Took a moment to consider his surroundings. To his far right rose the pure white walls of the palace, and to his left, just visible behind a belt of massive oak trees, a single column of midnight blue stone pointed fingerlike to the sky.

Dathne caught him staring at it. ‘The Prince’s Tower.’

‘You mean he lives up there?’

‘And works. Why? What’s wrong with that?’

Skin crawling, Asher stared at the stone spire. ‘Houses ain’t s’posed to be tall,’ he muttered, remembering Restharven’s cosy stone cottages. ‘It ain’t natural. What if it fell down?’

Dathne laughed. ‘It’s nearly three hundred years old, Asher. If it was going to tumble it would have done so long before now. Besides, the Doranen don’t build anything without stitching it up tight with magic. Trust me, it’s perfectly safe.’

‘You’ve been in there?’

‘Of course I have.’ She started walking again, fingers plucking at his sleeve to keep him with her. ‘Dozens of times. I often have books the prince finds interesting. Hes probably the finest scholar in the kingdom, you know, Reads the original Doranen texts as fluently as if they’d been written yesterday.’

‘Oh aye?’ said Asher, profoundly uninterested. ‘Goodfoi him.’

She looked at him sidelong, one eyebrow raised, a of mischief in her eyes. ‘Do you like books?’

He’d never owned a book in his life. He could read, after a fashion; Ma had insisted on enough schooling for that, at least, before the wasting sickness whittled her to bones and eyes and put her in the ground. Once was dead and gone, though, the sea had swallowed him whole and school had become a haphazard affair, days there as scattered as flotsam on Bottlenose Beach. He shrugged. ‘Books? Don’t think on ‘em much one way or the other.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Too busy fishing, I expect.’

Was she laughing at him? He glared. ‘Fishin’s a grand life. I ain’t found one grander.’

‘Did I say it wasn’t?’ She raised her hands in mock surrender. ‘You’re too easily prickled, Asher of Restharven, I don’t know anything of where you come from. Could you’re the most important man in the village, and if that’s so then I’m pleased for you. But a word to the wise now. Here you’re the new boy and Matt won’t stand brangling. It upsets the horses, and in his eyes there’s greater sin. Is your skin so tender you can’t take a little teasing?’

Asher felt himself burn. With six brothers unloving and Da pickled and stewed and blinded with grief, he’d learned early to meet aggravation with greater aggravation or pay heavy price. He scowled. ‘Any brangling won’t be ‘cause started it. A body’s got a right to earn a livin’ without havin’ to sleep with one eye open ‘cause some iggerant shit-shoveller can’t leave well enough alone. And if your

precious Matt ain’t a man to see that, then I’ll turn round right now and find m’self a different job.’

She stopped and swung about then, bony fingers closing hard on his wrist. In her face, a riot of uncertainty. Her eyes, plain brown and piercing, searched his face over and over as though looking for answers to a question she didn’t care — or dare — to speak aloud. Her brows were knitted and her teeth pinched her lower lip bloodless. There was a blazing ferocity in her he didn’t understand … but the heat of it backed him up a pace.

And then she smiled, the heat snuffing out of her like a wind-blown candle. Stepping back again, she let go of his wrist. ‘I expect you’re right,’ she said lightly. ‘It never hurts to let people know you won’t be trifled with. Now come on. I really don’t have all day.’

At length the gravelled path led them to another wall, this one of rough-hewn bloodrock speckled with some kind of crystal that winked and flashed in the sunshine. An | elaborate cast-iron gate stood wide open in welcome; passing through it, Asher saw the blue tower much closer now, yet still partly obscured by the oaks standing tall around its base. Straight ahead, though, was a grand curving archway of cream and ochre sandstone connecting two long, low ochre brick buildings. There were windows ranged at intervals along their walls, the open shutters painted a rich dark green. Through several of them horses poked long faces of brown and chestnut and grey, nostrils quivering, ears pricked, dark eyes wide and curious. Ringing into the surrounding quiet, a hammer struck echoes from an anvil.

‘And here we are,’ said Dathne. ‘Matt’s little kingdom.’ When Asher looked at her askance she added, ‘You think I’m jesting? Trust me, I’m not. The horses are his heart, and he protects them as keenly as any king does his subjects. Keep that fact pinned to your mast in plain sight, Meister Fisherman, and you’ll not go far wrong.’

‘Ha,’ said Asher.

They passed beneath the sandstone archway and into the rich-smelling world of horses. The stables were arranged in a large square, each box opening onto an expanse of herringboned brick and dark red gravel. The yard was immaculate, swept and raked and clean as a cook’s kitchen, At its centre gloried a lavish, bee-buzzed flowerbed.

The sound of hammering was louder in here, but had changed. Off to the left in a covered, open-fronted alcove a massive grey horse stood snorting with displeasure. A young Olken lad gripped its plaited leather lead hard in both hands. A giant of a man, Olken and mountainously muscled, crouched over one of the horse’s raised hind legs, cradling the fetlock and hoof between his bent knees. His black hair was clipped neat as a hedge. One large hand held a hammer and pounded nails into the horse’s hoof with such precise power that Asher, staring, had to wonder what it might feel like to be felled by a punch from him.

Be best, prob’ly, if he never found out.

Beside him, Dathne made a pleased sound. ‘There he is.’ She raised her voice. ‘Matt!’

Matt took a moment to tap the nail-head home with one final metallic blow, then shuffled carefully back to front, hand supporting the horse’s hoof, so he could finish off securing the shoe. Settling into his new position, hitching the hoof high onto his thigh, he glanced up. Saw Dathne, saw the stranger with her, and froze. His brown eyes widened, and his lips parted, sucking in an astonished rush of air. Then his expression smoothed, became completely noncommittal.