Weave a Wizardry Web ~ Chapters 6 & 7

 continuing the free chapters, 2 per month, as part of my year+ publishing celebration! My writing has changed quite a bit in the past near-decade.

Weave a Wizardry Web

VI

Camisse crossed the thick carpet, hoping her boots left no sandy trail. The woven carpet was a gift from the king himself, she remembered.

She bent and pressed dry lips to her mother’s papery thin cheek. As she straightened, she saw in Letheina a fragility she had not expected. Her mother looked shrunken. Her flesh looked peeled from beneath her skin. The ArchClan’s eyes, though, retained their steely cut.

“Sit, my daughter.”

“Ma mère,” she warned and indicated her dusty breeches.

“If you ruin the upholstery, it can be replaced.”

Camisse sat. She saw her mother’s hands shake. How old was Letheina? Eight and seventy? As a child of her mother’s later child-bearing years, Camisse had always viewed her as old. Now she looked truly aged.

Raigeis sat to the right, the place that he’d taken while still in his teens. Camisse had welcomed her appointment to the border—terrified of change, awkward with command, but glad to escaped her brother’s tyranny.

Letheina rested her arms on the damask-covered arms of her high-backed chair and clutched the wood that formed the downward curve to the seat. “You do not look as if you spent the morning sparring. Or that you rode six days from the border to here. Or that you were engaged in a battle against sorcerers and wyre when Raigeis’ sons arrived with my message.”

My secret stash of energy, she wanted to retort, but whimsy had little place in her clan. “I’ve rested two days, ma mère. I am resilient. How long before I return to Chanerro?”

“So eager to return?” Raigeis selected a pastry from the nearly empty platter. “Have you not missed our entertainments? Theatre? Concerts? Dances? You once claimed them important.” His bite into the pastry left a smear of cream on his lip. He wiped it with his thumb.

The more unsettled she became, the easier it was to avoid whimsy. “The importance that I claimed was only in looking after my niece and my nephew, both of whom I have yet to see since my return. You assured me they would be well cared for.”

“Do you suggest that we neglected them?”

“No.” She twisted a little then settled, not wanting to give Raigeis more ammunition. “I would like to see them, but I am told—several times—that they have duties they must perform. No one, however, will tell me what these duties are. I ask a few minutes only, but they are busy. At Chanerro, we do not have soirées and multi-course dinners with dancing and iced pastries with our tea. Are these entertainments their duties?”

“Of course not.” Letheina scowled. “Romert has duties at the palace. I am surprised you did not see him yesterday. Alstera works on a project for my brother. They both will attend tonight’s reception. If that is an acceptable time for you.”

“When Allard and Ferrant arrived at Chanerro, they said my return was a necessity. This is my third day back. Am I to hear the reason for my recall? We were considering an attack on Verrein Snows, the tower we lost a half-century ago. The Drakon’s eldest brother died there. He would be pleased to see the keep returned to us.”

Letheina’s nails dug into the blue damask. “Why do you speak of the Drakon?”

In the past she had never managed to keep private any of her activities and meetings with people outside the clan. She did not try now. “He was at the practice ring this morning.”

“You met him there?”

Her mother’s intensity warned Camisse to have care with her words. “I encountered him there, along with his outlander protégé Pearroc Seale. Ruidri Talenn introduced me to the Drakon’s comeis, who is his brother. I did hope to mention Verrein Snows to him; I saw it not a month ago. It is still a mighty citadel. We did not speak long enough to bring it up, however.” Had she eased their suspicions?

The ArchClan’s nails no longer scratched the wood. “I am pleased you remembered Verrein Snows’ connection to the Enclave. It should be returned to our control. When you take it, will you move the bulk of the border guards to that fortress?”

Raigeis’ twin sons had hinted that she would not return to Chanerro. Letheina’s question sounded as if she would. Camisse shared her plan and hoped she would be allowed to fulfill it. “Only if we can also take the Verrein Dale. Although the citadel looks strong, it can be cut off in winter. Verrein Dale would give us two outposts, each supporting the other. And then we will have moved the border back to the line we once held for two hundred years.”

“That would please the king.” She shifted as if the next words were difficult. “The reports we receive greatly please the king, especially with the failures at Iscleft in recent weeks. You have led our forces well.”

Praise surprised her. She couldn’t completely control her pleasure. She knew the tribute hadn’t come from her mother. Letheina had always been chary with any praise. Camisse had spent her childhood and youth striving to win her mother’s approval. Command had taught her to look for inner rewards. When she learned that trick, when she learned how to convince the Fae to trust wizards, the first successes followed. They had setbacks, but rising morale won as many battles as good strategy and steady supplies did.

“I am pleased to serve,” she said then added the question she had vowed not to speak. “If you are satisfied with my leadership, why did you send Allard and Ferrant to replace me?”

Letheina’s chin jerked, as if she blocked a look at her son. “You are not replaced. The twins merely stand in your stead until your return.”

“That is not what Allard implied.” She looked squarely at Raigeis, father of the twins. “Allard gave me the impression that I would not return.”

“Of course you will return,” her mother repeated, “likely by the end of this month.”

Yet Raigeis shielded his eyes and reached for another cream pastry.

“It is difficult to balance wizard, Fae, and military,” Camisse pointed out. “This recall, at this time, it cam disrupt that fragile web. Chanerro is successful because we work together. Iscleft is not successful. The commander there lets the wizards run the strategy. If the balance we worked so hard to build is broken, the web will fall apart. We will lose all we have regained. I would return sooner than the end of the month.”

“You will return when the ArchClan no longer needs you,” her brother snapped, asserting his magister authority.

“If I do not return,” she carefully kept a neutral tone,” my captains may revolt. Allard offended the Fae captain within the first hour, and the wizard captain by nightfall. They may have orders to replace me, but I left Captain Symonys of Bronchet Clan in charge. He has battle experience. Forgive me, brother, but your sons do not, and they speak incautiously.”

“You had no right—.”

“She has every right,” Letheina snapped. “She commands the post. We have gained much in the years I have required her to command Chanerro. She will return to that command. Allard wanted a posting, and you sent him with his brother to learn. He understood that the posting was temporary. In hindsight, perhaps we should have sent a veteran captain.”

Watching Raigeis swallow an argument against his mother, Camisse asked, “Or was Allard assured that his appointment would become permanent?”

Her brother reared back. He glared at her, and she gave a little nod. Yes, she understood him very well, too well.

“The ArchClan must approve any permanent posting.” He sounded hidebound.

“Oh, be quiet, Raigeis.” Their mother’s patience had thinned. “You tried to manipulate the situation, and you have been found out. Go. Scry a message to your sons. And then check on the preparations for this evening’s reception.”

“All is going as planned.”

“Go, Raigeis.”

He stared at his mother then stood, giving Camisse another glare. He didn’t stomp from the room, but his stiff walk exhibited anger. He shut the door carefully behind him.

Letheina looked at Camisse. “Would that there were spyholes in this room. He would stand there until you leave.”

“I will not say anything to you that I will not say to his face.”

“Nevertheless, shield our conversation. I wish to speak of things that I do not want him to hear.”

If Raigeis had done the shielding, it would have collapsed when he left. Camisse obeyed. Her magic ran easily for these shallow spells; it was the deeper spells that she struggled with. Aware of her mother’s critical gaze, she built the wards quickly, having had much practice in the last decade and a half. Plans for battle never succeeded if stray ears could hear.

 . ~ . ~ . ~ .

 Alstera flexed her fingers then sent a sliver of power to the Shield as the spell took shape, link into link into link. Camisse built it like a ward, a curious design for a spell merely intended to deaden sound. Wards barricaded. This linked spell veered away from anyone intending no harm while it barricaded against those with hostile intent.

Her aunt completed a circuit of the room. Alstera’s ears needed to pop. She backed away, and the internal pressure eased.

She should leave. She had already used up too much of today’s free time. She should have left when Raigeis stomped from the room. Alstera peered one last time into her grandmother’s study. She heard no words. Camisse hadn’t fumbled this spell.

Not that Letheina would commend her youngest daughter’s successful performance of a spell that other wizards mastered in their teens. Alstera had yet to hear her grandmother utter a word of praise to anyone who met her expectations. Her bloodline had to be perfect. She scowled at failures. She refused to acknowledge those who did not achieve more than requested. Alstera had not experienced a frown in years. She still cringed at her last failure. She still worked for that one nod of approval.

Letheina’s nods were much fewer than frowns.

I will win one. And it will come soon. When Alstera found the way to increase a spell’s energy not just for wizards but also adepts, then surely Letheina would compliment her success.

A thin sliver of light revealed the narrow door that fitted into the wall’s framing and opened into a side hall. She pressed the interior latch and peered out with magic. No one would see her emerge.

By the time she reached the hall proper, more magic dispensed with cobwebs and dirt stains. She added a bit of sparkle to her gown to hide the cleansing spell. And then she went in search of her uncle Raigeis.

He was not hard to find. He paced outside the study, up and down the long hall, occasionally glowering at the closed door as if wondering how mother and daughter could find so much to discuss. The house guard ignored the magister, keeping his eyes on the opposite wall. As Alstera approached her uncle, Comeis Ruidri Talenn came into the hall with his long stride. Alstera envied that panther’s glide over the marble floors. Only a Fae moved with such smoothness.

The house guard folded his arms across his chest. “The ArchClan is in private conference with her daughter Camisse,” he droned.

The Fae inclined his head. “I will wait.”

Raigeis glared at Alstera. “You have sparkled your gown?”

She flicked the shimmer of a bowtie on her bodice. “A little trick.”

“A profligate waste of power. Do you wish to see the ArchClan?”

“I was actually seeking you, Uncle. May we speak privately?”

“About what?”

She sighed at his curtness. “When people suggest a private conference, Uncle Raigeis, that usually means they do not want to announce the reason to the world.”

“You lecture me?”

“I would not dare. May we speak privately?”

“I have no time for petty concerns.”

Her turn to scowl, and she did. “I would not call our conversation last week about methods to increase puissance a petty concern. Nor the conversation the week before about determining the true motives for people’s crimes.”

“We do not need motives to convict them.”

“But what drove them to break the five tenets of wizardry? Should we not try to understand that?”

“We had this conversation. It did not need privacy. I have work to do.”

“I have questions about Nevil, Uncle.”

He stopped. Over his shoulder, he said, “Not now, Alstera.”

“Then when?”

“Ask me tomorrow. Or the next day.”

“I shall. Nevil is my friend. I think you make a mistake.”

Raigeis turned halfway. “No mistake. Do not be a fool by supporting him. He is lost.”

“Not if we understand the motives for an action you call a crime.”

“The whole Enclave calls it a crime. It has called the linking of minds a crime for centuries, since Saldoran.”

Oh. Saldoran and the Nexus. A true crime, then.

One hundred and forty years ago, the Enclave had banished the wizard Saldoran for stealing power from adepts through a linkage he called a Nexus. Before Saldoran, the Nexus was not forbidden. His multiple crimes caused the Council of Five to name it so.

A master wizard, Saldoran could deepen and prolong any linkage; he did not even have to be in physical contact with his victim. He had had many victims. He stole their power to increase his own, sending them out as spies, using them to work against the Enclave that had sheltered him. From the date of his banishment, any similar linkage became a crime, whether in a circle or a true web of connections. No wielder of power was to be involved in any linkage. No spell was to invade another’s mind. The Enclave’s only greater taboo was blood magic.

Had Nevil risked the Nexus? Cautiously, Alstera prodded her uncle with the theory that she and her friends had debated for the last three years. “Linked adepts could elevate one of their own to a wizard’s puissance. We would have more wielders to throw against Frost Clime. We need more, Uncle Raigeis.”

“It is forbidden.” A stone wall could not have been sturdier.

Ruidri Talenn glanced from Raigeis to her and back but kept his opinion to himself.

“You should not persist in this inquiry. Or have you helped Nevil?”

“We do not work together. I am under Rombrey’s tutelage for the higher spells.”

Raigeis snorted, evidence of how little he believed her. “You’re scraping up foul sorcery if you’re dabbling in the Nexus, little girl.”

 “I am not a little girl, Uncle. I know it is forbidden. I understand the reason. But we must have a way to increase our numbers against the Frost Clime.”

“No. Argue it with the ArchClan. Better yet, argue it before the Aged Sages. They will determine Nevil’s fate. Broach it before he goes before them, though, or they will consider you tainted with the same evil.”

“I’m not proposing Saldoran’s Nexus. I only want to help the Enclave.”

“It does you no good to argue with me, girl. Now, I have real problems to deal with,” and he started away, his boot heels clicking on the marble.

“That was not the reason I asked for a private conversation.”

He drew up. Again he gave her only his profile. “What? You will have to reveal it. We can trust the comeis not to spread it, and the guard—,” he gazed at the man, who froze, not seeming to breathe, “the guard won’t dare speak of it. Well? If it is important, speak up.”

He irritated her when he treated her like a fumbling adept. Alstera had passed the Trials sixteen years ago. At age fifteen, she was one of the youngest to do so and three years before her older brother. Raigeis had never congratulated her for that feat; he only praised one of his brood.

“I understand another attack occurred last night.”

“Rumor.”

“A Fae. He survived. Not cut-throats, Uncle, but unshifted wyre.”

Ruidri Talenn became stiller, not even breathing.

Raigeis glared. He eyed the comeis as if he were to blame. “We’ve not been told this.”

The Fae didn’t flinch. “I only heard it myself when I returned from the practice ring.”

Her uncle turned completely to face them. “Who told you?”

After a brief moment, when the Fae clearly did not intend to respond, Alstera answered. “Bourne de Chardyss, a relative of Sullin Bourne, comeis to Pater Perrault.”

“Ah. I will send for him this afternoon and question him myself.”

Ruidri Talenn bowed. “The comeis Sullin Bourne comes to me this afternoon, Magister, to discuss this event. Fae questioning Fae will create no hostility. Wizard questioning Fae—I do not advise it.”

Raigeis’ glare didn’t lessen, but he nodded. “That is best. Did this Bourne de Chardyss survive?”

“Forgive, Magister, but Bourne de Chardyss merely brought the news of the attack; he was not the one attacked.”

“Did the Fae survive?”

“Yes, Lady Alstera. He is wounded; our healer is with him. He was fortunate the wyre did not shift. I do not know the reason; he may. I had hoped to ask the commander Camisse to accompany me, Magister.”

“That will be her decision, Comeis.”

Again the tall Fae inclined his head. “Just so, Magister Raigeis. The commander is a power in this house, equal to the mater herself.”

“My mother is ArchClan, not just mater,” he snapped. “I thought the Fae were more careful with their words.”

Alstera snorted. “He reminds you, Uncle Raigeis, that Camisse may owe a blood loyalty and a kin loyalty to Letheina, but the commander of a military post has a voice in the Enclave equal to a clan leader.” She hugged that knowledge. Snubs littered Camisse’s past. But military rank didn’t depend on power. Camisse’s single vote would pique more than a few.

Raigeis understood all that Alstera had left unspoken. “The ArchClan is a powerful voice in her own right,” he defended.

“Of course. I do not disparage my grandmother and clan mater. Will you speak with me about the wyre attacks?”

 He scowled. She wondered how soon before his face fixed into such a fierce lines. “You would learn more from the comeis than from me,” he grudged. Then he strode away.

Alstera looked from her uncle’s back to Comeis Ruidri Talenn. He was looking at the guard.

“You have heard much in a little span of time that would be best forgotten. Can you do so? Or will it spill out with each tankard of ale?”

The guard’s eyes widened. “I should not have heard these things, comeis.”

“They are not dangers to know, yet caution is needed. It is an honor to guard the ArchClan’s person. You were selected out of many.”

“Comeis, it is wisest that I forget them. Your favor, comeis.”

“In this house, that favor should be asked of a wizard. Standing before you is the greatest of the Enclave wizards.”

The guard looked at Alstera then knelt. “My lady, these things I should not have heard.”

“You cannot un-hear them, guard.”

“With your favor, my lady, I could.”

With shock, she realized he asked her to reach into his mind and wipe the memory. The Fae asked her to do this. She stared at Ruidri Talenn. Has he heard about the spells I’ve been investigating? Can he sense a taint like the Nexus? Surely the Fae knew nothing about her recent inquiries. Faeron had no similar taboos. Ruidri Talenn knew this. Is he testing me?

She gestured for the guard to rise. When he once again loomed over her, she hissed, “What you ask is forbidden. We are not to tamper with the minds of others. We may only heal those who live in nightmares. Keep your mouth shut on the last half-hour. You do not need a spell to discipline yourself. Or do you?”

“My lady, your favor, please.”

“No. Raigeis will know that you should know. Three days hence he will ask you. He will know the difference between a mind refusing to answer and a mind wiped clear. And if you can hold your tongue for three days, by then the news will be all over the Enclave.”

“Many secrets swirl around the ArchClan. The magister will think I have told these.”

“Then I will ensure that he knows I was the one who spread the news. Keep your tongue in your head, guard.”

Still shaken, Alstera walked away.

Ruidri Talenn fell into step beside her. “I thought you waited for the commander.”

“I can wait at her chambers.”

“I did not expect you to refuse the memory wipe. He asked for it.”

“You put the idea in his head,” she retorted. “Would you tamper with his memory?”

“It is never wise. The pathway would cross many others. Myself, you, the magister, his duty to the ArchClan, and then we add in all we talked of: the wyre, the Fae, the other attacks, and more. In changing one memory we risk changing others in unpredictable ways. I would not have worked the spell.”

“Have you ever? Such spells are not part of my training. I ask for knowledge only.”

“As I said, the spell is unpredictable and therefore dangerous. What if we somehow cross a vital memory like breathing?”

He had avoided her question. Was it a warning? “Someone forgets how to breathe?”

“Little ones lose their breath. Have you not seen their fear when they cannot breathe?”

“But a simple jostle—.”

“Not so simple when the guard is a fathom-high and in light armor twice your weight.”

“Would you have done it?”

“As you said, the magister will know whether or not he lies about his memory of a half-hour.” He paused. “I go another way. Do you attend tonight’s reception, Lady Alstera? Then I shall see you there.” He bowed then backed a few steps before he turned.

She watched him until he took a side passage off the main hall. It was too late to return to Letheina’s study and hope to speak with her aunt. She should return to Great-Uncle Rombrey. Her nose twitched on the thought of Nevil imprisoned at the Moot Hall. Raigeis would have no patience with her for the next few days, not after her hidden insults registered.

She could not remember the name of the witness against Nevil. His wife Zenobia might have let him bespell her once, but not twice and certainly not to lose her power to him. And Zenobia would be biased. No, Alstera needed someone else. In Nevil’s clan Teobolt was closer to his age, but she thought she would get more answers from a young adept in Charanaise House. Ysador had his studies. Lisandra could be counted on for early tea at the Willow Gardens.

Lisandra it was then.

 VII

 Camisse returned to her seat. Her mother seemed burrowed into her chair. What necessity had compelled Letheina to call her back from Chanerro Pass? What necessity required secrets to be kept from Raigeis, her magister and oldest living son?

“Shield in place,” she said to prompt this private conversation forward.

Letheina did not keep her in suspense. “An Enclave vote is approaching. I want your clan proxy.”

The implications ricocheted. As barely a wizard, Camisse’s only vote would be for clan leader—the replacement for one who had died. Unless—. “Or you stepping down as clan mater? To devote yourself solely to being ArchClan?”

“Don’t be foolish. The Enclave has no precedent for that. And don’t look shocked. Foolish girl. I am old. I can tell my time is nearing. Not tomorrow or next week or even next month, but I will certainly not survive the coming winter.”

Camisse found her voice. “Who told you this? Gerhardent? Arendt?”

“Both our healers are useless for anything more than tonics and tinctures. Do you think I don’t understand my own body? Do you think a clutch of cackling diviners can tell me anything?” Her pale blue eyes flared, bluish-grey lightened toward silver. “They flutter on about Chaos and thresholds and the elements all mixed. They are useless.”

Camisse knew better than to answer. Letheina must have consulted the oracles and received no practical answer.

Letheina, her mother, dead. And I feel—what? Not grief. Not fear. Nothing. The ArchClan’s death would affect every person in the Enclave, wizard and adept and Naught. Every Fae. Every mundane. Repercussions would ripple into the other two cities of Lucerna. A new ArchClan meant a new liaison for the king. Every contract with merchants and dealers and artisans and craftsmen and caravanmasters—her mind boggled at the far-reaching changes. Anything Letheina had signed in the Enclave’s name must be re-negotiated. Only contracts stamped with the seal of the Council of Five would hold through the new regime.

Letheina had served as ArchClan for ten years. For all the disagreements and disappointments between daughter and mother, wielder and clan leader, Enclave member and ArchClan, Camisse knew her mother had served the Enclave as best she could. She had steered a middle path between Fae-backed hawks and isolationist doves.

She had lobbied her predecessor to send Camisse to Chanerro. Camisse’s successes there had influenced Letheina’s election to ArchClan. She set her favored son as magister. Her favored grandson became liaison to the king. Who else had she steered into position?

And she wanted Camisse’s voting proxy? Why? Letheina could not control the Enclave after her death. “You will have no use for my vote when you are dead, ma mère.”

“Foolish girl.” The old woman did not temper the verbal slap. She never had. Death glaring at her, she still would not. Whatever awaited in Neothera, Letheina would not change now. “Had I not birthed you, I would doubt your parentage. Your proxy will be given to Raigeis.”

“No.” She did not need to consider.

“I demand it.”

“You cannot demand it. You will be dead.”

“The contract is drawn up already. Raigeis will have your proxy vote for the next clan leader and the next ArchClan. You see, I anticipated your refusal. I anticipated that you still do not trust your brother.”

“With good reason. He tries to replace me with his sons.”

“He will not.”

“Not now, not since I called him on it. He intended to. Just as he would find a way around the terms of any contract. No, ma mère, he will not get my proxy.”

“You will have returned to Chanerro. The vote will happen without you.”

“I can scry my vote. You cannot demand my proxy.”

“I do demand it. Give it to me, or I will have the king remove you as commander.”

Her eyes flared at the threat. “Don’t be foolish, ma mère,” she retorted, repeating her mother’s earlier words. “You would lose the commander’s vote entirely. You do not know whom the king will approve as my replacement. My success is not easily duplicated, or Iscleft would be winning as well. Allard and Ferrant were foolish choices. They have little battle experience. Neither are suited to command wizards, let alone Fae and Rhoghieri. Who decided that? Raigeis? Appointing his family over better choices? Tomorrow a veteran needs to be sent to replace the twins. You see, ma mère, I grow in wisdom. I am commander of a border post. My proxy vote will serve our clan and the Enclave, not my brother’s ambitions.”

“How can your vote serve the Enclave?”

“I command Chanerro Pass. I command wizards, Fae, and the king’s soldiers. When the Enclave accepted the Fae binding, Faeron demanded that the border commanders receive votes for anything that affected the whole Enclave. The Fae at the Pass told me of this. They will have also told Ferro at Iscleft. The command gives me the same rights as a clan leader.”

Letheina’s head rested against the high back of her chair. “I had forgotten that.”

“That will crawl up Raigeis’ spine.” Camisse could not quite hide the relish she felt at one-upping her oldest brother. “He cannot vote, yet I can.”

“He can vote if he is the next Clan Pater.”

“And thus the reason I will not give him my proxy.”

“Even though I am your mother and wish it?”

Guilt washed over Camisse. Then she saw how the old woman’s eyes glittered, and she remembered all the manipulative ways that Letheina controlled people.

“Even with scrying you may not learn of the vote in time. You will miss the discussion, the consensus-building.”

“Then have Huron Talenn come to me on your death. Bonded to you, he must obey a command, even if it carries past your death. The Fae can walk within this world in the twinkling of an eye. It takes great power, but he can bring word within hours of your death. And I can return with him by the underpath.”

“You are willing to travel through the veil?”

She grinned at her mother. The underpaths frightened her, but Letheina did not need to know that. “I trust the Fae,” she countered. “They keep their word, even unto death. And if their death leaves an oath not completed, their sept will ensure its fulfillment. Have you forgotten that?”

“My mind is as sharp as ever.”

“Perhaps you choose to forget their powers, like wizardry yet completely different. You have never accepted their presence in the Enclave. You are bound to a Talenn de Ysagrael, whose Maorn is first brother to the Maorketh. He is a Blade, one of their best warriors. He will fight for you to his death. Fae cannot lie. They hold the five tenets sacred while we see the tenets as guides. Why do you mistrust them so? No, it is not mistrust. It is hate. Why do you hate them so? They did not lure my oldest brother into Faeron. It was his choice to disappear.”

“You understand so much but not that? Foolish girl. Will you give Raigeis your proxy?”

“No. You should have anticipated that I would not.”

“I hoped—since I was the one to ask, as your mother—.”

“You, ma mère, taught me to avoid sentiment when making decisions,” she scoffed. And this shaky logic and emotional loyalties were far distant from the mother Camisse knew. She had changed greatly. “Raigeis is too arrogant and blind with it. He offends wizards and Fae. He’s not even obeying you. He overstepped your request by replacing me with his sons. What else has he done?”

“He serves me faithfully. He is my oldest living son.”

“Clan leadership is not primogeniture. You taught me that lesson, ma mère. Someone better suited than Raigeis should be found. Your support for that person should be announced. If Raigeis is the only candidate for pater, the clan will split.” But she had pressed too far. Letheina’s wily instincts awoke.

“How do you know this? You’ve only returned five times in fifteen years. No one is better suited than Raigeis. He is oldest. He has the most experience.”

“And he lords it over the others like a tyrant. I have not missed that while I’ve been away.”

“Who is a better leader? Give me a name, Camisse. Tournous? He is not our blood. My nephew Gerhardent? He is blind to his brother’s faults. Shonine will not leave her ties to Clan Bronchet. Aloise? She can scarce wield Water. My brother Rombrey? He has the age and the experience, but he will not come out of his tower. And he will not live many years past my own death.”

“You do not name Romert. He is the Enclave’s liaison to the king.”

“Too young.”

“Is he? He is admired and respected by people in and out of our clan. He is a wizard of Water and Air and an adept with Earth. His wife is a full wizard of dual powers. Their children show potential. Name him.”

“How do you know he is respected?”

“Along with your orders I receive letters from friends across the Enclave.”

“You gossip about me?”

“Not you specifically, ma mère, only the news that anyone would hear. Why do you not consider Romert? Because he is not Raigeis? Ma mère, do not tell me that your heart rules your head.”

“He is too young,” she repeated.

“Yet he acquits himself well in court and in Enclave politics, is that not so? Better than Raigeis, who thinks hectoring is persuasion. And the Fae bond will temper his mortality and human emotions with Fae longevity and reason. He is a much better choice than my oldest brother.”

“His weakness is his sister Alstera.”

“How is Alstera a weakness? She is the most powerful wizard in the Enclave.”

“She dabbles where she should not. She is impatient with Enclave restrictions. She rebels when she needs to show restraint. And she is his downfall, for he sees no errors in his sister. Raigeis is the only choice.”

Camisse shifted in her seat. “How long am I to stay?”

“What is this question? I ask for your proxy.”

“Do I return as soon as I give up my two proxy votes? Is that the plan you hatched with Raigeis?”

“You make it sound as if we colluded.”

Camisse rolled her eyes and stood. “By that, I think, I have my answer. Here is my plan, ma mère. You say I am fifteen years from being with my clan. While I stay here, I will take the tenor of the clan. I will question. I will observe. In and out of the clan. And then I will decide if I am wrong—or if you and Raigeis are wrong.”

“I am your ArchClan and your clan mater. You dare call me wrong?”

“You tell me you are dying. The dying are often blinded by sentiment. The Letheina who is my mater and ArchClan is not blinded by sentiment. Give me time to learn if Raigeis has changed. If he has not, I will look for the best candidate for clan leader.”

“We counted on your proxy to swing many votes to Raigeis.”

“All the more reason that I should decide carefully. You should see that.”

“I see it. I do not like it.”

“There speaks sentiment, ma mère. Careful. You do not sound like yourself.”

She huffed. “Do you have to be right?”

“Celebrate it, ma mère. Fifteen years ago I was never right. Raigeis told me that.”

Letheina arched a brow. “Did he so? I did not know that.”

“You do not know all Raigeis did then or does now. Are you agreeable to my plan?”

“Have I a choice? Yes, yes, I agree. Go from me. I must rest this afternoon. This evening’s reception will go far into the night, and I must keep my wits for it all.”

“The ArchClan can retire early.”

“Not when she is hosting the event.”

“Raigeis should have hosted it. Shall I ring for your secretary or your maid?”

“Drviss has orders to come to me soon. She will escort me to my suite. Go. Start your questions. The sooner you’re done—.”

She kissed her mother’s papery thin cheek then strode out.

Drviss waited, talking quietly to the guard. A Naught in common dun, she’d been with Letheina even longer than Raigeis had been Magister. She curtsied. “Commander.”

“She is expecting you, Drviss.”

“Very good, Commander. It is a pleasure to see you returned, even though temporarily. Perhaps in your brief time here you can have the same influence in the clan that you have at Chanerro Pass.”

“Thank you, Drviss.” Did she hear implications, or did she want to hear them? “My mother says you are to escort her to her chambers. She will be grumpy. I did not obey her request.”

“Better a little pique now than great dissatisfaction later, Commander.”

More implications? She shot her a quizzical look, but the maid opened the door to the study. She glanced at the guard, but he had re-focused on the opposite wall.

With an inner shrug, she headed for her rooms.

Drviss’ voice kept swirling. As a Naught, she had no vote in clan business. Naughts were powerless family or retainers or employees. Drviss was a retainer, a cousin too distant to be counted family. Her father had served ArchClan Saigeis, Letheina’s father, then Letheina when she became matriarch. Drviss stepped in when her father became too enfeebled. Naughts might have no vote, but they were not blind. Long-serving Naughts saw better than most.

Tonight’s reception would give Camisse the opportunity to re-connect with her clan. She drew up short. And any gown in her wardrobe would be fifteen years out of fashion.

“Camisse! Cousin!”

She turned. A young lady was gliding to her. Tall and slender as a willow, so pale blond her hair looked like flax in the sun’s radiance, she had a pretty smile that heightened the perfect symmetry of her features. But it was her lake-blue eyes that helped Camisse realize who she was. “Faone? Is it Faone who used to tag behind me while her sister studied?”

She giggled. “I did not expect you to place me. I have changed.”

“You are quite altered, but only you and your sister Fleur have such pale hair and water-blue eyes. And I have returned a few times, to see you grow from a toddler to a young lady. What are you now? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Seventeen. Oh, I have wanted to speak with you, ever since I heard you had returned. Where are you heading?”

“My rooms. For a long soak and then a search for a gown for tonight’s reception.”

That beautiful face crumpled in disgust. “I’m not going to the reception.”

“I wish I were not, but Letheina requires it.”

Her long-suffering tone brought back Faone’s smile. “Where you will be presented as if you are a debutante, and everyone will want a dance with you, or five minutes alone for a little word.”

Camisse shuddered. “Can you help me escape? I would rather face wyre in battle.”

“You truly fight the wyre?”

“The shifters are allied with the sorcerers of Frost Clime.”

“Yes, I know.” She studied her left hand. No, a bandaged finger.

“Have you hurt yourself?”

Faone looked up then dropped her hand. Her face pinked. Briefly, she touched her bodice above her heart. “A scratch, no more. After the morning meal. It has stopped bleeding now, I think. You said you needed to search for a gown?”

“My things are cobwebbed with age.”

“I can help you. You can wear one of my gowns. We are much of a size and the hem can be quickly let down. If you wear slippers rather than the new heels—.”

“Slippers, please. I will fall off any heeled shoes.”

Faone giggled again. “You are not clumsy!”

“Only when my feet are well planted. And I am not as willowy as you, Faone.”

She eyed Camisse’s form critically. “It will depend on the lacing, I think. Go on to your bath. I’ll bring three or four gowns that will work.”

“I don’t think—.”

“Hush. It will be a privilege to gown the commander of Chanerro Pass.”

“This commander wishes she was back at Chanerro Pass.”

Young lady though she was, Faone tilted her head with understanding on those aquamarine eyes. “I remember. You were a wallflower. Next to a Naught and ignored. Trust this Naught, cousin: you will not be ignored tonight.”

“Wallflower is easier.”

“And no fun. The men you encounter tonight may look forward to speaking with the commander, but they will linger for the lady.”

“That’s not reassurance,” she laughed.

“The gown will give you confidence. Trust me.”

“If it’s like the one you’re wearing—.” The silver and grey day dress looked elegant in its simplicity.

“No, this is too plain. You need something to shock them all.”

“Not shock them, Faone.”

“Yes. They need to see you with new eyes. Trust me. I know. I am a Naught, but that is no longer the first thought anyone has of me. Nothing too daring, I promise. Go on. I’ll be there in a half-hour.” Her mouth twisted. “Maybe a little more. I promised to help Fleur.”

“How is your twin?”

“She will pass her Wizard Trials without difficulty, but she stammers whenever she tries to flirt.” Faone rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t take to my lessons very well. She has a tendre for a young wizard in duCian. He likes her, too; I can tell. But she is convinced he likes that flame-haired girl in Drakon clan. Fleur thinks she is too plain.”

“Surely she sees how elegant you look?”

“She likes laces and ruffles, lots of them; the more, the better. And she has no eye for colors. But I promise to be with you in an hour. Or two.”

Camisse laughed. “No hurry. The long afternoon stretches before me.”

Only the afternoon vanished. She was hailed every time she turned onto a new hall. Two hours had passed before Camisse reached her room ... where her niece waited for her.

Alstera sat at a table, frowning over the letter before her.

Camisse shut the door. “I return, all rainy and dusty, and my favorite niece is engrossed in her own writing.”

She sprang up. “Tante Camisse!” The letter was flung aside, and she hurried to give her a hug. “You cannot be rainy and dusty. Besides, the sky is clear. And I have been waiting an hour. I wish I had known yesterday that you had returned.”

“Yesterday your brother Romert brother imprisoned me at the palace, explaining to the generals and then the king’s advisers and then the king himself about our recent advances at the border. We were there until the 19^th Bell. I’m surprised Romert didn’t mention it to you.”

“I don’t usually see him except on the Holy Day. Oh, it is good to see you.” She gave her another squeezing hug then stepped back.

“Even when I am still in my dirt? Can you wait until I bathe? And Faone is coming. She promised me a gown for tonight’s reception. Will you attend?”

“Raigeis has ordered me to be there. What delayed you this afternoon?”

“A conversation with Letheina, and then I must have spoken with a member of every family in the Clan. Uncle Rombrey demanded I take tea with him.” She opened the door to her private chamber, and Alstera followed her in.

“He is bossy like that. He grows bossier every month.”

“Don’t say that,” for to do so would mean that Letheina’s brother began to show his age as she did—and he had no Fae binding to counter the effects. “Hravda? Are you here?” She crossed the bedchamber to the dressing room.

“Here, Lady Camisse.”

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but I am here now.”

“And the bath is hot, my lady. I was just heating it with a little spell. The food, however, wouldn’t hold. Shall I fetch another tray?”

“Uncle Rombrey gave me a substantial tea. I will want a little more before the reception, I think. Unless there’s to be a dinner. My mother didn’t mention dinner.”

“Only hors d’oeuvres and such,” Alstera said from behind her. “Let me finish my letter, and then we can talk through the doorway, as we used to.”

See previous posts for earlier chapters. 

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Weave /Web on the Zon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074HJG1P7

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