The Mage's Daughter: Book One: Discovery

by LeRoy Clary

  The three women left, chatting about styles, colors, and accessories. Hannah wrapped strips of thick cloth used for drying around herself went in search of Sir James. She found him behind another door, in a room filled from floor to ceiling with papers, charts, maps, graphs, and scrolls. In the very center stood a large worktable that two men were dismantling so it would fit through the door. A small bed sat in the sitting room, which seemed a proper name for the room when stated that way. People ‘sat’ in it. Sat and talked, many of them from the number of chairs, sofas, and benches conveniently placed. Sir James must entertain often.

  William entered and said, as if surprised, “Let me guess who you are, young lady. You are the niece I’ve heard so much about but have never seen.” He stressed the last word and tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “It is very nice to meet you.”

  Sir James held several scrolls and charts rolled up in his arms. He kept trying to put them on shelves already overflowing with others, and they continued rolling off. Finally, he stood them in a corner and said, “I will need a place to work near here. Find one and move all this.”

  William nodded, but said, “If I may offer a suggestion. Your library is valuable and having it elsewhere may not be the best idea. The sitting room is oversized. Would you consider the carpenters building shelves in the corner of the main room for your temporary use?”

  “Excellent idea,” Sir James threw his chest out and crowed as if he’d thought of it himself. “She can sleep in here, and I can work out there. Temporarily.”

  “I’ll see to it,” William said. “I also took the liberty of instructing the seamstresses to have three dresses delivered here within the hour. One will be a housedress and the others formal. I also asked for slippers and anything else a young girl may need for an audience with her King.”

  Sir James spun on William. “He already knows?”

  “And insists on both of you being in attendance at your earliest, which means he wants you there now,” William said.

  “Send a messenger that we will be there as soon as we have proper clothing. Don’t explain further, just let him wonder at what we wear.”

  William headed for the door. “It is so interesting to have you back, sir.” The door closed firmly behind him.

  Hannah said, “He’s a bit rude, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he always has been, but I couldn’t ask for a better uncle.”

  “Uncle? He is your uncle. So he knows you’re not my uncle?”

  “Yes, but he also knows that if I make the claim, he will back it up to the death. I do not have to explain my reasons to him, although we spend many an evening in front of the fire, sipping white wine and talking about home, family, orchards, and fresh air. It does not matter what. 'Family’ is about togetherness and talking of nothing and enjoying it. I’ll explain it all to him soon enough.”

  “In many ways, you have a strange relationship.”

  Sir James shrugged. “We manage. He has insisted I find a wife for twenty years or more, but my job and poor attitude make me a sad catch for any woman.”

  She shook her head. “A woman looks inside of a man to see more than what he shows to the world. A woman would be good for you.”

  He carried an armload of scrolls from the chart room to a sofa and placed them down as if each was made of thin glass, then went back for more.

  Hannah strode around the room, still wrapped in lengths of drying cloth, examining statues, carvings, and on one table colorful rocks, just plain rocks as near as she could tell. She paused near the fireplace and admired the man wearing the crown in the painting above it. She said, “I’m going to meet him, the King, I mean. Today.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sir James faced Hannah and said, “I’d hoped to put this off a few days until you learn a few basics of how to greet your King, how to speak to him, and the required civilities. But it seems you’re going just to have to be your charming self and do the best you can. Fortunately, he has called for a private audience so the gawkers will not be there the criticize you.”

  “Is he old, too?”

  “Like me? Well, not as old, but older than young. He loves children, especially those well-behaved and mannered.”

  Hannah laughed, then noticed Sir James was not. “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh, indeed. I cannot teach you all the things you need to know in a portion of one day. So I will say this. No matter what is said, no matter how much you disagree, you must be respectful to your King.”

  Hannah heard the iron in his tone and wondered at the reaction of the two squires-in-training when they heard the same iron speech come dawn when they were introduced to the flagon at sunup. She said solemnly, “I will. I promise.”

  She continued to wander the room attracted by first an artifact on display, then a painting of a woman, followed by a carving of a deer leaping. Each held a story, and Sir James eagerly shared all of them. She held an ornate knife that had been a gift to the crown a hundred years earlier, far too fancy to be of practical use, when all three of the tittering seamstresses reentered. The young one carried a blue dress trimmed with white lace. One of the others a pair of blue slippers made the same color. The last another blue dress, of fancier lines.

  Sir James turned his back and strode to his bed-chamber, leaving them to their tasks of dressing and preparing her. One asked if the color blue looked just right. Hannah exclaimed that it was the perfect snapdragon color of blue. They dressed her, had her spin, made minor adjustments and would have continued long into the night, but Sir James cleared his throat and called to them, “The King awaits. Leave the house dress there for later and please make at least three more tomorrow.”

  “Just look at your beautiful niece,” one said, then burst into a fit of giggles as if she’d said something funny.

  His face lit up, as he entered, wearing different pants, polished boots that rose to his knees, and a loose shirt decorated with a gold stripe beside a crimson one the same size running from his left shoulder to his waist. He’d slicked his hair back, and Hannah smelled the strong cologne before she saw him.

  Hannah stood, dressed in the blue formal dress, her hair tied with a matching blue ribbon, and her shoes matched the same color. Her lip trembled in anticipation. “Like it?”

  “You are indeed a princess,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Where is the little girl in ragged homespun I knew a few days ago?”

  She ran and leaped into his open arms. He spun her around, but when she caught an unexpected glimpse of the three seamstresses, two of them wore bitter expressions. Only the younger one smiled with what looked like genuine affection. But Hannah let her eyes flick away before they noticed she’d found them out. It felt no different than the morning kitchen when the cooks talked and gossiped about her. They would look at another right in the eye and lie, then laugh and talk behind their back.

  Sir James said, taking her by the hand and almost dragging her from the room, “We must hurry. The King awaits.”

  Once in the hallway, she pulled back and slowed. The dress nearly reached her ankles and running threatened to trip her. She said, “Uncle James, will I always have those three make me more clothes?”

  “Why? Do you need something else?”

  “I’m thinking of the future, is all. Will it always be the same people?”

  “We have dozens of seamstresses. I have never seen any of those three, but you can request them if you’re satisfied.” He gave her hand a small squeeze intended to settle the issue.

  She continued down the hallway with him, trying to see the pictures on the walls, the tapestries, and even glimpses out the small windows. She said, “I would request one of them.”

  He pulled to a stop near an intersection of hallways and knelt at her side. “Something is on your mind. Why would you request one?”

  “The other two are snipes.”

  “Snipes? What in the world are those?”

  “They’re mean women who smile to your face and t
alk dirt to your back.”

  Standing again, Sir James said, “You are going to make things most interesting in the palace. I don’t need to know how you figured them out so fast, but I accept your judgment. We will talk more of this later.” He reached out and pushed a door open.

  Two guards stood inside, both giving a salute to Sir James, and he raised his open hand in return. “May I enter?”

  “He’s waiting,” one guard said before opening the next door.

  Hannah expected to enter a room at least twice as big as the one Sir James called his own. She expected to see a suite larger than the ballroom in the Earl’s Castle, more ornate than any room she’d seen so far. Peeking past the Knight, she stumbled to a stop.

  Inside the door, she found a room smaller than the Knight’s bedroom, almost as small as his library that she would use for a bedroom. Two more guards stood beside another door, and a third door stood open, allowing sunlight to fill the room. Outside that door, she saw another terrace, not unlike the one Sir James enjoyed, but far smaller. Another guard stood discretely in the corner of the terrace. A man sat there at a table. A very ordinary looking man.

  She glanced at the room again. Expensive tapestries hung on the walls where there were not bookcases or shelves. An ornate chandelier hung above a massive table filled with stacks of papers. The chandelier hung from the carved ceiling by an iron chain that ran from it the top and then across to one wall and a hook where they could raise or lower it. She counted twelve candles.

  “Hannah, wake up,” the Knight hissed.

  They crossed the room and went to the door leading outside. Sir James came to a halt in the doorway and stood tall. “My Lord.”

  The man sitting waved an impatient hand to bring them forward. “Come on, let me see what you’ve brought home this time. I’ve already heard a few tongues wagging.”

  “Her name is Hannah, Sire.”

  Hannah tried to stand upright like Sir James. She looked at the plump man, his balding head, and eyes that were small and crafty until he smiled. He sat at a table made of a single slab of white stone, and a chair of peeled-bark wood. The legs of the chair were four different sizes, the back of the chair too short, and unless the floor was crooked, the legs were of different lengths because she noticed it rock slightly as he shifted positions. He said, “Instead of taking my measure, you look to my chair. What is your impression?”

  “I expected something better.”

  He exploded in laughter. “Would you change your mind if I explained that this chair was fashioned by my hands when I was only a little older than you?”

  She hesitated, then, believing she should be honest, said, “Did you ever make any better ones?”

  He waved a wrist, indicating for them to sit. The other five chairs at the table were fashioned by professional hands, although they were still simple in design and also made of peeled-bark wood, a type of construction favored by peasants. The man gave Sir James a slap on his shoulder when he bent to sit, but his eyes were on Hannah. “When presented with the same question I asked you, most lie to their King. Only James and William tell me the whole truth. Do you want to know why I sit in this chair? I’ll tell you, anyhow. It’s old, misshapen, and I have never been able to get the damn thing to sit square, but it reminds me of my many failings, and how much others are better at certain tasks.”

  Hannah said, “What about the Old Mage? Did he always tell you the truth?”

  The King didn’t miss that she used did instead of does when speaking of the Old Mage. He flinched at the word but then chuckled hoarsely, but without humor. “That rascal tells me what he wants me to hear, or what I need to hear. But you are right when the three of us sip ale or wine here. There is more truth passed between us than in the rest of my entire palace.”

  Sir James said, “I must speak of things you will not enjoy.”

  “You must tell me all.” The King waved to a servant and motioned for wine to flow.

  The King’s eyes darkened as he listened, but he never once interrupted. Twice he drained his goblet, and the servant leaped to refill it. Finally, Sir James finished his tale, telling the story in simple, unedited words, from the initial attack to the wagon that carried them into the Palace grounds. The only item left out were any mentions of Hannah’s mage ability.

  The King turned to Hannah. “Do you wish this man to be your uncle and benefactor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Done. Unfortunately, I never had the pleasure of meeting your mother, but have heard of her many times at this very table from your father. That alone certifies your birthright. I will make the Royal pronouncement later today at a meeting of my Lords and Ladies. Do you understand what that means?”

  “I think I’m beginning to and wish it was different.”

  The King looked at Sir James, “She speaks her piece, doesn’t she?”

  “Like her father.”

  “She looks like him, only prettier.” Again, the King turned to her. “From a fire starter to a princess in a few days. It would be a lovely bedtime story but for the darkness that will follow. While many will appreciate the justice of it and they will support you, others will not. Those most powerful in the kingdom sit near my throne. Should I die, or better said, when I die, a firestorm of ambition will flare into being like none before. Knowing these people, I expect to have more deaths follow mine, as they fight and claw for position in line for the crown.”

  “I’m not interested in it,” Hannah declared.

  “Which may be the very reason you should wear it, young lady. But my fear is for your immediate safety. I want you to make me a single promise here, today.” He waited for her to agree.

  “I have to know what it is, first.”

  He almost laughed, then turned serious again. “If I die in the next few years, you will barricade yourself in a room, or run for the hills, or whatever it takes to remain at a distance from your enemies, all of whom are blood-related to you in some fashion.”

  Her impulsive words never made it past her lips. She gulped them back as she saw in the King’s eyes that he required her answer and solemn promise. She reached out and took his hand in hers. “I promise.”

  “While I can appoint Sir James to be your guardian, I can proclaim him your “uncle” but in name only. There are those who scour the births and deaths trying to keep track of all and their positions, and they will soon know your precise lineage. Most of them hold a birthright of some level and how high they rise depends on who above them dies, and when, or who is born. The game in this palace is power, and who has it, wins the game.” He finished his third goblet of wine before setting it down on the stone table so hard he may have bent the metal bottom.

  Sir James said to her, “I agree with our King. We’ll use the word uncle as a term of generosity or endearment.”

  The King said, “That aside, we still have the primary reason for my request. The murder of my Mage and my three Knights is unacceptable, as are the attempts on the life of Hannah, a member or the royal family and successor to the throne. As of now, we begin a private war, the three of us. All else are suspect.” He pounded his fist on the stone table, making the goblets jump.

  Sir James said, “You and I can narrow the list of suspects to three or four. The Old Mage was not the target of the assassination attempts. It was Hannah, but none outside of the Earl’s Castle knew of her, so that narrows the suspects even further.”

  The King threw his head back and sighed. “From your tale, we know of one culprit for sure. I will dispatch people to arrest the Earl’s Young Mage and return him here for questioning before I introduce him to my Dungeon Master.”

  Sir James stood. “Sire, Hannah and I have work to do. If you’ll excuse us, we will get started.”

  “You offer that excuse to leave because I’m making a mistake?” the King demanded.

  “Not exactly a mistake, but a futile action. By now the mage you’re seeking is long dead at the hands behind this, or he is in league and h
as hidden himself away, as is the second mage he worked with, the one who offered the rewards closer to your palace. Whoever it is that is behind this attack would not dare leave them alive or unguarded.” Sir James said.

  “Go. Attend to your business while I think,” the King snarled.

  Once in the hallway again, Hannah whispered, “He’s your friend?”

  “A very upset friend. And a very dangerous one. I feel like spiriting you away until things settle down.”

  “Spiriting?”

  “Nothing like that it sounds. I meant it would be safer to hide you until the King makes his pronouncement and you get officially enrolled in the line of succession. I don’t think anyone will attempt anything here in the palace, but I would never have believed what happened has in the last three days either.”

  They again walked on carpets laid two and three deep, pausing to gaze at the intricate stitching on tapestries, and admire the strokes of paintings, some so real in appearance the people in them seemed ready to speak. Sir James paused when she indicated she wished, and he commented on several. He said, “How about a tour of the palace?”

  “Can we?”

  He took her arm and escorted her down the hallway and descended the stairs, drawing the eyes of the Royals as they passed. But she only saw Royalty, yet in Sir James’ rooms there had been maids, William, the seamstresses, and the men who carried the water and tub all moved about, and she assumed the other suites of rooms required the same number of people.

  She said, “There are no servants.”

  “They have their own passages,” he replied, as if it was natural for Royalty and servants to walk different hallways, then he relented slightly. “Smaller and often faster for them to travel.”

  He entered the market again using the same outside door as before at the bottom of the massive stairs. As it opened the dim of drums, singing, shouting, barking, and conversation assaulted their ears. Hannah felt the eyes of several people on her and accepted the smiles and nods directed her way. She returned most, initiated others. She said with more than a hint in her voice, “I have not eaten today.”