The Queen of Mages (37 page)

The apprentice thought for a moment. “I’m…
I’m going to dinner at master’s house,” Garen said. “Maybe… you
should come.”

Amira glanced up at Dardan and raised her
eyebrows in question. He sighed and nodded. “We’ll have to see how
they react. This is very risky, Amira. Take it slow.”

“I know,” she whispered to him. “I will be
careful. I promise.” She stretched up and kissed him quickly, then
looked at Garen. He watched them warily, his eyes white orbs in the
gathering dusk. “Thank you. We would be honored to accompany
you.”

The boy nodded again, and strode off at such
a pace that Amira almost had to jog to keep up. She managed to pull
up alongside him, and kept between him and Dardan. She didn’t want
Garen to feel penned in.

He led them through the quieting village,
away from the looming mountain and to a row of houses that ran up
along a rocky slope. Hearths burned bright in them all. Amira was
glad when she stepped out of the cold, salty wind, and into Orville
Walker’s house.

The door opened into a small sitting room,
with a dining room behind it. A spicy, fishy smell came from the
kitchen on one side, and another door led away down a narrow
corridor, probably to the bedroom. There was no sign of children,
no cribs or toys. Either the blacksmith and his wife had none, or
they’d already grown up and gone off to seek their own
fortunes.

The woman who bustled out of the kitchen at
Garen’s call stopped and blinked at the unexpectedly large party in
her sitting room. Amira recognized her as one of the goodwives
they’d met earlier: the sensible, graying woman. “Hello, Garen
dear,” she said. “I see you’ve brought some guests.”

“Yes, ma’am, this is um… what was your name?
Mira?”

“Amira Howard,” she corrected him gently.
“And this is my husband, Dardan.”

“How do you do, ma’am,” Dardan said, doffing
his hat and bowing.

The woman chuckled. “Oh my, very well, thank
you. Orville!”

The blacksmith came out from the kitchen as
well, looking unhappy when he saw who stood in his house. “Mm,” he
grunted.

“They…” Garen stopped. “Um.” He blushed,
looking around as if he hoped someone might pop out of the walls to
help him.

Amira stepped forward. “Ma’am, master smith,
you have a lovely home. Your apprentice was kind enough to invite
us along for dinner, although I understand if this is an
imposition.”

“You talk like a noble,” Orville
muttered.

Amira’s stomach dropped, but she held her
smile. The smith’s wife clucked at him. “Orville, dear, be polite,
they’re guests.”
For now
went unspoken. “My name is
Helen.”

“Can they stay for dinner?” Garen asked.
“If… if that’s all right?”

“Well. I suppose so.” Helen eyed Amira’s
trousers again. A woman dressed like a man had probably seemed more
amusing out in the village than it did in her own house.

Helen conducted them all back to the dining
room. Through some clever footwork, she managed to direct Amira to
one side of the table and Dardan to the other. Orville sat at the
head, with Garen at his left hand, while Helen went into the
kitchen to fetch plates.

Orville looked around suspiciously, even at
Garen. Amira kept quiet, mulling over how to open the conversation,
wondering if Garen would even be willing to talk about his power.
She’d hoped for a chance to speak with him privately. Trying to
explain their powers to too many people at once would be awkward at
best.

This close to the sea, fish was part of
almost every meal. Tonight it was sea bass baked with mushrooms and
spices, and roasted turnips on the side. There was plenty to go
around; Amira could see Dardan’s manners struggling against his
appetite. He always did eat a lot. But he manged to confine himself
to a reasonable portion.

“So,” Helen said once they’d all been served
and begun to eat. “What brings you to Stony Vale?”

Amira glanced at Garen, who stared down at
the fish, poking at it with his fork. He wasn’t about to jump in
with an answer. “Yesterday’s storm, actually,” Amira said. “A
wagoner told us we could find shelter here closer than
Seawatch.”

“Hah. That’s all they think we’re good for,
up there,” Orville crabbed around a mouthful of bass.

Helen pursed her lips. “What my husband
means is that most folk haven’t a reason to come here, off the main
road as we are.” She turned back to Amira. “But you’ve outstayed
the storm.”

“Yes. Well. Garen?” Amira stared at him
until he lifted his eyes to meet hers. He was a handsome boy. A
man, really, the same age as her if she guessed right, though he
clearly hadn’t had the benefit of city life to sharpen him.

He brushed nervously at his hair before he
spoke. His words came out strangled, and he cleared his throat.
“Missus—Missus Walker, I—” Now he looked at Amira again, eyes
beseeching her.

Now or never.
Dardan watched her as
well, worry stalking every squint of those dark eyes. “Your
apprentice is a very… special young man,” she began.

“I’m beginning to think he’s a bit touched,”
Orville said.

“Orville’s always saying what a good
apprentice he is,” Helen put in.

“He does?” Garen said, blushing.

“Now you’ve done it, woman. He’s not
supposed to know that.” But Orville grinned a little at his wife.
She smiled thinly back.

“I’m sure his smithing is excellent,” Amira
said, “but that’s not what I meant.” She leaned forward. “Garen,
can you light a candle for me?”

He blinked. “You mean…”

Amira nodded at him. The room was lit by
sconces on each wall, but the candles in the middle of the table
were closer at hand. She blew one of them out. “Go on.”

Orville and Helen watched curiously. Orville
seemed on the verge of making another crack, but he held his
tongue.

Garen stared at the candle and pursed his
lips. Amira saw the familiar silver bead lurch forth from Garen’s
forehead, wavering drunkenly as it approached the wick. This was a
smaller target than before, when he’d just thrown his bead at the
ground. Garen stuck his tongue out a little as he concentrated, and
the bead grew in brightness for a moment. Suddenly the wick flared
alight.

Helen gasped, and Orville shoved back his
chair and stood up. “What in the—”

“Please, it’s all right! It’s all right.”
Helen was in reach, and Amira took her hand. Dardan, she saw, held
quite still. He no longer reacted to Amira’s power with
astonishment, but having another mage using that power right next
to him seemed to have unnerved him a little.

“How did you do that?” Orville demanded,
jabbing a finger at his apprentice.

“I—I don’t know, sir. There’s a… there’s a
light, like a little weld I see in my mind’s eye. And if I push it
out…” He nodded at the candle.

Orville glared at Amira. “How did you know
he can do this? Who in the black spirits
are
you?”

It took a while to explain her ability and
how she’d come to discover it. She left out that she and Dardan
were nobles, and everything about Edon.

Instead she said that they were from the
west, and that she had been searching for other mages since she
discovered her power. She said mages could tell another mage just
by looking, but didn’t elaborate about the silver light. Orville
and Helen were too bewildered to ask for details.

She was elated to have found another mage to
speak with. If the Walkers didn’t panic and throw her out, that is,
or denounce her as a witch to the magistrate. She demonstrated her
own power to them as well. She blew out all the candles in the
room, then lit them in rapid succession. She boiled a cup of water,
and charred a piece of roasted turnip. The Walkers, and even Garen,
watched in amazed silence. The apprentice stared keenly at the
silver beads she made.

“All I want,” she finished, “is to spend
some time with Garen. I think we can learn a great deal from each
other. It is as with any trade, or skill, I suppose. One smith
working alone can only grow in his craft so much, but two can learn
from, and teach, one another. And who knows? Perhaps this ability
will make Garen a better smith.” She smiled warmly at him, and he
blushed again.

Dardan spoke, finally. “Please forgive my
wife. She has a great deal of enthusiasm. If you think it would be
best if we simply left Stony Vale, never to return, then we will
abide by that. In such case, all we ask is that you do not tell
anyone about Amira’s ability.”

Amira grew angry. Why was he encouraging the
Walkers to throw them out? “If we did leave,” she said quickly to
Garen, “I cannot guess what would become of you.” She hoped that
he, and the Walkers, would take the message: Garen might be better
off if they stayed. Even if the smith and his wife bore no love for
Amira and Dardan, they clearly were fond of Garen, and would
hopefully see the value in him learning to control this new power
better.

“Excuse us,” Orville said brusquely and
stood up again. He gestured toward the kitchen, and Helen dutifully
stood and followed him out. Amira could hear them speaking in low
tones, but it would be impolite to eavesdrop.

Instead she looked at Garen. “They will make
up their own minds about what is to be done with us. What about
you?”

Garen shook his head. He’d become marginally
less tongue-tied as the night went on. “I don’t know, ma’am,” he
said. “Smithing, forging, hammering. That’s what I’m for.”

“Leave him be,” Dardan said. “He’ll have to
think it through, same as you did.”

“The circumstances are different,” she
snapped. “There’ll be no ball here.”
No Prince Edon to wreak
havoc.
Dardan just shrugged.

The Walkers returned in a few minutes. Helen
brought in lemon pie and served up slices, saying nothing. Orville
seemed annoyed and declined his.

Everyone else tucked in, and when their
mouths were all full, Orville spoke. “You can stay. Whatever this
nonsense is, I figure it’s better if Garen knows how to use it
proper. Send a raw boy into a forge by himself and he’ll burn his
hand off before the day’s out.” He glared at them all, especially
Garen. “But you two strangers’ll need to find your own lodgings.
And Garen’s still got to work at the smithy like normal. He can
come train with you in the evenings, after dinner, wherever you end
up staying.”

“Or on my day off,” Garen proposed.

“You still need to see your family,” Orville
admonished him, then glanced at Amira. “The boy stays here most
nights. His family’s an hour’s walk out into the farms.”

“I could ride there with you on those days,”
Amira said. “Using the power accurately while on a moving horse is
a challenge all its own.”

“I don’t have a horse,” Garen said.

“We have a spare,” she said. Dardan was
glaring at her now, but never mind him. “It’d speed the journey,
and it would be lovely to meet your family.”

“Amira,” Dardan bit out through gritted
teeth. She sighed. Didn’t he realize how important this was?

“It’s time for bed,” Orville announced
suddenly, standing up. “I’ll show you two out.”

Amira was prepared to argue, but Dardan
stood up just as quickly and spoke over her. “Thank you kindly for
your hospitality, master smith, Missus Walker. The pie was
delicious.” He came quickly around to Amira’s side of the table and
took her arm. She barely had time to stutter out her own thanks
before Dardan dragged her out the door into the dark. Orville did
not exactly slam it behind them, but it did clatter.

A quarter moon hung above the western
horizon, barely augmenting the starlight. Amira shook off Dardan’s
arm. “What was that about?” she demanded.

“Offering him a horse? To go visit his
family?
Are you mad?” She could barely make him out in the
glow of hearthfires leaking through windows, but his posture was
unmistakably threatening. “I told you to take this slowly! Have you
never even heard of caution, woman?”

“Who knows where Edon is now?” she reminded
him, bitterness leaking into her voice. “Do you? I have to teach
this boy, Dardan. To learn from him. I will not lose him like I did
in Tyndam.”

“Are you still upset over that? Amira, it’s
been weeks! I’ve told you before, there was nothing you could have
done.”

She shoved her hand into her mouth to muffle
her scream. How could he not understand? In Tyndam she’d finally
recognized the hole that had been growing within her. Katin, her
best friend, her
vala
, could do nothing but watch while
Amira explored this ability on her own. Even her growing love for
Dardan had only filled the abyss a little. She didn’t believe Edon
would ever give up trying to find her, control her, possess her.
She couldn’t fight him alone.

And she couldn’t shout all this at Dardan in
the darkness. He’d never listened before anyway. “I’m going to the
inn,” she hissed at him, and stomped away.

She lay awake in bed for what felt like
hours, eventually wondering if maybe Dardan had gotten tired of her
and fled the town. She had just begun to drift off when the door
creaked open and Dardan came in. She pretended to be asleep as he
sat down on the bed beside her, and ran his fingers over her hair.
“I love you,” he murmured.

That’s not enough.

Katin blinked away sleep and sat up when the
morning sun hit her eye. The servants’ quarters were small and
bare, low cots between brick walls. The other two cots were both
empty; the baron’s maidservants had probably risen before dawn.
Katin had been so exhausted from their flight, she’d slept right
through.

She found a chipped basin and pitcher and
washed her face and hands. Proper bathing would have to wait.
Where is Liam?
Probably hiding from her. No wonder he’d
avoided telling her where they were going. Baron Parvis Stanton was
the one who had raped that farmgirl, though Count Asmus had found
the man innocent. Well, nobles protected their own, didn’t
they?

Liam hadn’t had any choice, he’d said. Well,
he was probably right, but that didn’t make it better. She’d stayed
with him, trusted him, even tried to offer herself to him—
No,
you don’t have to—shut up—

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to
cry, and made herself breathe deep, reaching for a calm that might
not come. He’d rescued her. Rescued, like a hero out of legend,
spiriting her away in the night! But a hero did not brutally stab a
harmless servant boy to death on his way out of the palace. Katin
was not naïve enough to believe in legends.

Still, he’d saved her. So she’d offered him
the bed, but then he summoned gallantry like a magician pulling a
handkerchief from thin air, something that should have been
impossible. Even in the woods on those cold nights, they’d lain
next to one another, and he did no more than curl his arm around
her shoulders. He’d made the chase, caught the mouse, and then
nothing. Why was he toying with her?

She had thought about leaving, running away,
going to hide where no one would ever find her. As if she knew
where that was. But she would not leave him. She owed him that
much. She owed him more. That debt would hang over her like a cloud
until it was repaid.
Maybe I should… I should… give him…

She realized that tears were indeed leaking
from her eyes. She stood up and wiped them away, then took more
breaths to prepare herself. She went to the manor’s central hall,
looking for Liam, and found him standing before Baron Parvis. Her
spine stiffened as Liam’s eyes flicked over to her for a moment,
but then he attended to the baron again. “We will be gone as soon
as possible, m’lord.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Parvis sneered. He
twisted around in his chair and saw Katin. “I see your woman has
deigned to rise, now that the morning chores are done.”

Katin’s face burned, but she curtseyed
quickly and went over to Liam. “I’m sorry, m’lord.” She wanted to
explain how tired she’d been, but Parvis did not look like he
wanted excuses.

“You two will work while you’re here.
Valai
you might be, but a house is always in need of hands.
Alvin will task you.” He stood up, brushing invisible lint from
himself. He was dressed properly now, trousers and vest and coat.
“I’m off to town this morning,” he announced, and an enormously
tall man with black hair stepped out from a corner and handed a
riding hat to the baron.
That must be his
valo. The huge
man’s stare made Katin feel like a bug underfoot. He said nothing
and followed Parvis out of the room.

She and Liam were left alone. He smiled and
reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. “You had to bring
us
here?
”

His smile wavered. Clearly he’d been hoping
she wouldn’t bring it up. “Well I didn’t know of any other shelter
nearby. Parvis hid us from the Warden! Would a prison cell have
been preferable?”

Katin folded her arms. “Of course not. But
now what are we going to do?”

Liam paused. “I’m not sure. I spoke with
Alvin this morning. He has only gossip, as he rarely leaves here.
Apparently Ilya and Calys went to Thorncross to reaffirm his fealty
to the duke and to have Ilya declared the new count. There’s been
no word of Dardan or Amira.”

Katin grimaced. Her hope drained away, a
small warmth she hadn’t even known was there, smothered by cold
despair. “Then there’s little reason to stay here.”

“Let us stay a day or three, at least. We
need the rest, after the journey, and last night. And anyway, Baron
Parvis commanded we not leave the grounds for the time being.”

Alvin sent Liam out to the stables, and gave
Katin to a plump young maid named Chelsea, who set Katin at the
laundry. She let the mindlessness of it wash over her. This
scutwork was a long step down from serving as a
vala
, but it
suited her mood.

In the rear of the manor, near the washing
room, was a little nook with undersized replicas of the eight
altars one would find in a Niderine temple. Even nobles rarely had
such rooms in their homes, and Parvis did not seem the type to
spend time wordlessly in prayer, so Katin found it odd. She eyed
the miniature temple every time she passed it, and with only slight
dismay realized that she ached to go in and pray at the altar of
Despair, with its tiny statue of a mouse, its snout pressed down
close to the little plinth.

———

Baron Parvis was gone all that day. Again
Katin and Liam were sent to the separate quarters for male and
female servants. Despite everything, she missed his touch, holding
close to him in the cold night, but sleeping in a warm manor house
helped make up for it.

The baron returned the next evening, a smug
smile plastered across his face. Katin glimpsed him in the hall
when he returned, thick as thieves with Alvin and the baron’s
towering
valo
, who she’d learned was named Marten.

Dinner came and went. Katin sat on the edge
of her cot in the women’s quarters, pulling tangles from her hair
with a chipped old brush she’d borrowed. Chelsea and the other
girl, Delia, were finishing with the dinnerware. Chelsea had taken
pity on Katin, who had evidently appeared miserable, and sent her
to bed early.

All during the day, as she’d scrubbed and
thrashed at linens, she’d begun to allow herself a fantasy of
staying here forever, an anonymous servant girl in an unremarkable
country manor, not hunted or wanted by anyone.
I had the same
fantasy in Amira’s manse in Callaston, and look where I ended
up.
How much farther would she fall? She’d already seen the
bottom, and did not for a moment relish a return to it.

A shadow moved. She looked up, expecting one
of the other girls to come in, but was startled to see Marten, the
baron’s
valo
, filling up the doorway. His lank black hair
framed ghastly cheekbones. His hands looked big enough to envelop
her entire head. She swallowed down an instinctive cry. “Yes?”

“M’lord wishes a word with you. About your
situation.” His voice was deeper than any she could recall hearing.
Like distant thunder.

She stood up, wary. “He has some plan for
us?”

Marten shrugged. “M’lord is waiting.”

Katin expected the
valo
to lead her
to the sitting room, but when he went up the stairs her breath
caught a little. The
valo
did not slow, taking the steps two
at a time, and Katin reluctantly followed.

He led her to a large bedchamber beyond a
double door, lit softly by stand-lamps at either end. Baron Parvis
stood just within, reading a parchment. He looked up at their
approach, and tossed the parchment aside onto a table, seeming
pleased with himself. “Thank you, Marten. That will be all.”

Katin stepped inside, just far enough for
Marten to close the doors behind her. They latched shut with a
chilling click.

Baron Parvis stood watching her, a vulpine
smile etched onto his face, but his amiable tone belied it. “I must
admit, when you arrived two nights ago, I was not best pleased.
That
valo
of yours…” He made a face. “I’ve never liked him
much. He’s full of himself. Puffed up, for a commoner servant. Of
course, I saw him many times when we were boys, running about in
town. I’m only a year or two older than him.” His eyes sparkled,
black in the dim light.

“M’lord…?” Katin prompted.

“Ah. Yes. I spoke with Ilya Tarian
yesterday, though Lady Calys is quite obviously running things at
Tinehall. I do believe that girl has the best qualities of both
parents, such as they are. Barring some misfortune, she’ll be a
thorn in my side for decades.” Parvis for some reason still wore
his coat, and just now he shrugged it off, tossing it aside
carelessly onto a chair.

“I’m glad to hear the Tarians are well,
m’lord,” Katin said. She felt her back brush against the doorknobs
and realized she’d instinctively moved away from him.

Parvis snorted. “Everyone always is. They’re
such a sickeningly beloved family. I can’t say I miss Count Asmus,
of course. But what Edon did…” His smile disappeared. He looked
like he’d smelled something foul. “Even the Tarians should not have
suffered so. I pray thanks to Sacrifice daily that my lands were
not in Edon’s path.”

What do you want?
Katin felt herself
tempted to ask, but servants, even
valai
, did not rush
barons.

Parvis went on. “You and your
valo
are a double handful of trouble, and I have gone to a great deal of
effort to rid myself of you. It would have been easy for me to
simply search out the Warden and report that you were indeed on my
estate. Certainly he would have wondered why I lied, and of course
I could have said that, for example, you had been holding my
valo
hostage against my good behavior. Not true, of course,
as we both know.” He took a step closer. “But as you say, he was
dispatched by the royal family—I checked on that—who are not in my
good graces at the moment. So instead I went to Count Ilya, or
should I say, Lord Ilya.”

Katin blinked. “Lord Ilya? He is not the
count?”
Then that means—

“Dardan Tarian lives. And so does your lady,
this Amira. Or at least, they did, some days past. You see, when I
told Ilya and Calys that their brother’s
valo
had returned
with you in tow, and that I had you both safe, they exchanged a
most astonished glance with one another. Children still, the both
of them, and easy to read. I saw that they hid a secret, and
pressed them. They admitted that when they went to Thorncross, to
have Ilya declared the Count of Hedenham, they were told that
Dardan and Amira had called upon the duke some days after the
unpleasantness at Foxhill Keep.”

Katin’s jaw hung open.
They’re alive!
Or they had been, however long ago this had happened. But if Amira
had survived the days after Foxhill Keep, there was a good chance
she still lived now.

Parvis went on. “Apparently, the duke’s
seneschal took umbrage at their presence and put them out, sending
them off toward the east. Where they went from there, none can say.
Of course, with Dardan known to be alive, Ilya cannot be made the
count.” The baron’s smile had returned, making him look like a fat
tom with a canary trapped between its paws. He held up a finger
before his lips. “This is all in confidence, of course.”

“Of course, m’lord,” Katin murmured. If
Dardan and Amira had gone east, perhaps they’d headed to Seawatch.
They could be anywhere, really, but the flame of hope had sprung up
anew in her heart.

She was startled to realize that Baron
Parvis stood within arm’s reach. “So the question remains, what is
to be done with you? I gather that you and Mister Howard,” the name
came out with a sneer, “wish to find your masters.”

“We… we will head north at once,” Katin
said, her lips dry. “Tonight. We will be gone and trouble you no
more, this instant.”

Parvis shook his head. “You will never make
it that way. Warden Penrose has set patrols of men from the
garrison on all the roads near Hedenham Town, looking for the pair
of you. Tinehall is watched day and night. Even going straight over
terrain, you would likely be caught.” He held up one hand, and
something glinted between his fingers: a gold coin. “But as it
happens, there is a trade caravan wending its way through Hedenham
County at this very moment. And tomorrow they will be stopping in
Elmsburn, not five miles from here. I will pay for you to join the
caravan, as apprentices. I have it on good authority that they will
be heading east. You can use it as cover to follow after your
mistress. I suspect that between you and your sweetheart, you have
enough cunning to find a way to depart from the caravan when it has
carried you far enough.”

Katin’s pulse raced. She tried to keep her
breathing even. “M’lord, I cannot thank you enough.”

He held the coin up now before her face,
then with a twist made it disappear into his palm. “The deal is not
sealed yet. As I said, I have undertaken this at great personal
risk and expense. A barony is no bar to arrest by a Warden, and
while I have no doubt that Count Asmus would have had the guts to
stand up to this Penrose, I am equally certain that Calys does not.
If I am to complete my perfidy against the crown, I will require…
payment.” He stepped aside and looked over toward the canopied bed.
Katin had not paid it any mind before, and saw now that the
bedcovers were thrown back.

No! NO!
A piercing shriek sounded
inside Katin’s head, a memory of laughter—

The merchant with the black moustache pushed
her roughly down onto the bed. “Sir, there’s no rush,” she
protested, “you’ve got me for the whole evening with the coin you
paid—”

“
Quiet!” He slapped her hard across the
face, and while she lay disoriented on the bed, he tore her clothes
off and climbed atop her. She lay still, as she’d been trained—some
men wanted to hit and hurt, Miss Lucy had told her, and they pay
extra for the privilege. Just lie back and think of the hearthfire,
and drink your tea, and put the memory behind you afterward. The
bruises will fade. Why, you’ll get three whole days off to
recover.