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.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
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.
“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 19th 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.
Check back each month for the next installments.
Wanting to purchase? Here are links.
Weave /Web on the Zon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074HJG1P7
Worldwide, Books2Read https://books2read.com/u/mVx7a6
