The Fire Mages' Daughter

by Pauline M. Ross

  “Shall we go to bed now?” he said, when we eventually surfaced.

  “No. Let’s do this properly – get the papers drawn up, the apartment arranged, all that sort of thing.”

  “As you wish,” he said cheerfully. “But if you change your mind about that, let me know.”

  And he winked at me, grinning.

  ~~~~~

  It took us more than a ten-sun to get everything organised. The contract was the least of it. We spent no more than an hour at a Scribing House, for the terms were quite standard, given our situation. Any children would be legally mine, and the choice of whether to have any would be mine also. Arran argued for a higher than average allowance – “Consider your station, my love!” – and a longer time than just one year, but the scribe who drew up the contract looked at him impassively over his spectacles.

  “The standard terms for Highness Axandrina’s… erm, station are all set out in the advisory notes. Variation is not recommended unless under exceptional circumstances. I think you will find that the usual allowance is most generous, and the contract may be renewed on expiry. If acceptable to both parties. But it is for the drusse-holder to specify the precise terms, naturally. Highness?”

  Part of me wanted to give Arran everything he desired, but somewhere in my mind was the thought that the standard allowance would be paid out of the Drashona’s general funds, without cost to me. If I agreed to more money, it would have to come out of my own allowance. It was not as if he needed so many clothes as I did, after all.

  “For the allowance, we will try the standard terms,” I said, trying not to see the disappointment on Arran’s face. “We can vary them later, if need be, I take it?”

  “Oh, indeed, Highness. If exceptional circumstances should arise.”

  “And we will start with two years.”

  The scribe sniffed disapprovingly, but Arran beamed happily at me.

  The apartment was more problematic. The cosy little place that Arran had envisaged changed by degrees into something far grander, as every possibility we looked at was deemed unsuitable. More servants’ quarters, more guest rooms, in case we had visitors, a nursery suite, just in case – “It would be so inconvenient to move later, my love,” Arran insisted – and a vast array of furniture to fill all those rooms. I let him have his way, since it cost me nothing, and it gave him pleasure to set up what he called ‘our little nest’. It may have been a nest, but it was far from little.

  Then there was Vhar-zhin to deal with.

  “Why?” she wailed tearfully, when I told her what I was doing. “Why under all the gods do you have to leave? Let him have his own apartment, then you can visit him when you have to. That is the way it is done. That is what Yannassia does with her drusse.”

  “I don’t want to just visit him, Vhar. I want us to live together, to be a proper couple. That’s what lovers do.”

  “But I love you, Drina! Does that not weigh with you?”

  “Of course, and I love you too, Vhar dear, but it’s different, you know that. We’ve grown up together, fledglings sharing a nest, but now we have to fly away.” I must have had nests on the brain.

  But she was crying too much to answer me.

  It was a relief when Arran and I moved into our own apartment at last. We walked hand in hand through the principal rooms on the appointed morning, he pointing out the elegant details of the furnishings he’d chosen and their approximate cost, and me wondering if we could get out of the feast being held for some visiting Durshalon that evening. I thought wistfully of a whole evening together, just the two of us, eating a carefully chosen meal, and then off to bed for the first time. Well, there would be other evenings, but there was still a chance of a meal together.

  “Shall we send through to the kitchens and order something for the noon board?” I said. “The cooks have been in for two suns, so they should have something prepared.”

  “I have a better idea,” he murmured. “Come on.”

  He pulled my hand, and I laughed, knowing exactly what he had in mind. He tugged me towards the bedroom, and I went willingly enough. Finally! I’d waited so long for this, for the man I desired to share my bed. Ever since we’d exchanged that single, passionate kiss in the library I’d dreamed of this moment. At last those dreams were coming true.

  At the bedroom door, I turned to Cryalla, who clumped noisily behind us. She raised her mail-clad hands in surrender. “It’s all right,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me. I’ll wait out here.”

  Then we were inside and the door was closed to shut out the whole world.

  He took it very slowly. Maybe he thought it was my first time, but he was so gentle and sweet, kissing me softly while deftly unbuttoning and unlacing and sliding me out of this and that. Once my breasts were free of coverings, things got more heated and his clothes got flung aside rather rapidly.

  But then he stopped and held me tight for a long moment, not kissing or stroking, not moving at all, his face buried in my hair.

  “My little flower,” he murmured. “You are so beautiful. Let me look at you…” He held me at arm’s length then, his eyes running down my naked body. “So, so beautiful…”

  Without another word, he picked me up and carried me over to the bed. And then…

  It was rather good. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it as much as he seemed to, and perhaps it didn’t quite match up to one or two of my dreams that left me shaking and breathless, but there was a warmth in me that was very, very pleasant. I was sorry when he stopped.

  Afterwards, we crawled beneath the covers, and I cuddled up to him as he lay sprawled on his back. It was the first time I’d had sex with a man who wasn’t horrified about it, wanting to run away, or turning away from me as if ashamed.

  But Arran didn’t turn away. He let me wrap an arm around him and lean on his warm chest while he talked. Clothes – that was what he talked about. How he needed new clothes in vast numbers for all the important occasions he’d be required to attend with me, and how he had no money until his drusse allowance was paid at the quarter end.

  “What about your pay? You must have something left from last quarter.”

  “Oh… that goes nowhere, my love. And the sort of things I shall need – I do not want to shame you by appearing in anything less than the best. I have a man all arranged to do the work, but he wants some cash before he starts. I suppose you would not like to let me have something in advance?”

  I was too contented to argue with him. “I’ll give you a note to take to the treasury. How much do you want? Twenty silvers?”

  He laughed. “You have no idea of prices, do you, my love? But then you never have to pay for anything. A hundred should do it, just to start with.”

  “A hundred. Very well.” But I had more idea of prices than he knew. I hadn’t always lived in the Drashona’s household and had all my bills sent direct to the treasury. I knew perfectly well that a hundred silvers would clothe a lot more than one drusse, no matter how high-ranking.

  I wasn’t about to make a fuss, though. It was only money, after all. And it had the pleasant result of making him amorous all over again, and for a longer time, so that the warmth I felt increased until I could think of nothing else. I clutched Arran to me, and pushed against him as he moved and for a little while it was wonderful.

  Then he stopped again.

  “You are the sweetest drusse-holder a man could wish for,” he said, laughing. “You have quite invigorated me. You will not mind if I go to the training yard and pop a few arrows with my friends?”

  He barely waited for my answer before he was scrambling into his clothes. The door opened and closed, followed by the low rumble of his voice, and then Cryalla’s higher tones. They both laughed.

  Silence fell. I was alone.

  ~~~~~

  The nobles immediately took more interest in me, now that I was to be proposed as a possible heir. Most of them had never taken me seriously before, and had left me alone, but now I found mysel
f the focus of attention at social occasions. Despite Arran, I received several offers for additional drusse, or replacements, should I tire of him.

  Most approached me with straightforward friendliness, but some were more subtle, so that I had to puzzle out what they actually meant and whether the surface cordiality was real or not. Despite my misgivings about being heir, I enjoyed that aspect of my position.

  But some were hostile in ways too obvious to miss.

  At an assembly one sun, a middle-aged man detached himself from a group of merchants and made his way across to the pillar where I had stationed myself to watch the room. He sidled up to me, bowing casually.

  “All alone, Highness? That will never do.”

  I didn’t want to admit to what I was doing, so I cast around for an excuse. Spotting a group in brightly coloured robes, I said, “I am waiting for the Most Holy Regent’s envoy.”

  He looked across at the large group vying for the envoy’s attention and gave a bark of laughter. “Then I have a few moments to introduce myself. I am Honoured Shallack abre Turshamon fen Gurshmonta.”

  I knew who he was. I’d seen him often enough speaking at the Nobles’ Council, for he was a man of some importance there. Not of the highest rank, not the wealthiest, but very influential, especially with the merchants. His own trade was with the Icthari. His attire was more restrained than the usual flamboyant styles favoured by the nobility. He had a long, lean face, with sallow skin.

  I merely inclined my head to acknowledge him, saying nothing. If he wished to say anything in particular to me, it was up to him to find a way.

  But he came straight to the point. “So you wish to be the Drashona’s heir?”

  “It is the Most Powerful’s wish, not mine,” I said coolly. “I daresay the whole world knows how little I wish it for myself. But I am content to do my duty.”

  “Your sister and brother embraced the idea some years ago. You will have some catching up to do if you wish to win.”

  “It is not a race, Honoured. I am submitting myself to be considered, that is all. There are no winners and losers. Each of us will be assessed on the basis of our suitability.”

  “Very true, Highness. And do you consider yourself suitable?”

  “That is not for me to say, Honoured.”

  He continued as if I had never spoken. “More suitable than, say, Highness Zandara?”

  I said nothing.

  “She has already shown excellent judgment,” he went on. “Her understanding of her position, her choice of drusse…” He paused, not even looking at me, but I understood the jibe. Zandara had set out to choose a drusse from each of the noble houses in turn, starting with the highest ranked. It was a commendable scheme, if you had no more emotion than a fly. Whereas I had chosen from the heart.

  He licked his lips, and there was a malevolent glitter in his eye. “But perhaps we can find you a husband, one of these suns. An alliance with one of our neighbours – one of our distant neighbours – would be so appropriate, do you not agree? We would all be so pleased for you.”

  “You are so considerate,” I said. “It has been most entertaining talking to you, Honoured, but I must not keep you from your important duties.”

  He bowed smoothly, not quite as low as protocol decreed, and departed. I was heartily glad to see him go. Nasty little man.

  ~~~~~

  Zandara made her report to Yannassia, proposing a modest invasion into the Clanlands. The Drashona’s senior advisors clustered round the table in the planning room as she spread the map out, the corners weighted with stones.

  “The easiest starting point is here, by the northwestern fortress. We can sweep down and take the trading village at once. From there, we can follow this valley through the hills. It is an old road, so it should be level going. The spies report that the bridges still stand. That will bypass the black-bark forest, clear out a number of clan settlements in the hills and bring us through to this valley here, where there is a small stone-built town, ruined, of course. That is a good base for us, since these hills shelter us from the wider Clanlands beyond. There is only one pass, very defensible. Then we can begin cropping the black-bark forest.”

  “That would be very profitable,” Yannassia said, her eyes shining. “We have never been able to get enough of it, and the prices are ridiculous. The tanners will be thrilled.”

  “The healers, also,” Zandara said. “There are a number of uses for the bark and the leaves. We will have enough to sell on to the Port Holdings, too.”

  “Any thoughts on this plan? High Commander, you approve?”

  The High Commander stood a little straighter. “From a military perspective, Most Powerful, it is a low-risk campaign, with a good chance of holding the gained ground indefinitely.”

  “But?”

  “The Blood Clans are an unknown variable. They may seem like non-fighters, but there are historical records which say otherwise. Their beasts—”

  “Are a legend,” Zandara said, her pale eyes cold as a fish. “Besides, if there is any substance to the stories, we will doubtless find out very quickly, while we are still able to withdraw within the bounds of Bennamore.”

  “That is true,” the High Commander said, but she frowned all the same.

  “Any other thoughts?” Yannassia said. “Yordryn?”

  Her brother, the current heir, was invited to these meetings as a matter of courtesy, but he always looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else, in fact. Now he shook his head.

  “Axandrina?”

  “I do not like the idea. Why the rush to war? Why not try again to negotiate a deal with the byan shar?”

  Zandara smiled pityingly. “How long was he here, and yet no progress was made? He was the one who dangled the idea in front of us, and then refused to come to the point. He is dangerously unstable. Perhaps the clans will stop supplying us altogether. We must secure our supply, by force if need be.”

  I could see some sense in that. A small incursion, not too deep, just to take control of a portion of the forest, and leave the major part of the Clanlands untouched. That would be lower risk. But I could foresee problems.

  “The black-bark forest,” I said. “The army is to march around the outside of it, you said? What about the interior of it?”

  Zandara smiled at me. “As I am sure you know, sister, a black-bark forest is quite impenetrable. The roots grow upwards, the branches bend downwards – it is impossible to get through.”

  “Well, yes. For an army, perhaps. Not impossible for the forest clans. And if the army bypasses the forest and sets up camp here…” I stabbed the map with a finger. “…it will have the forest at its back, with who knows how many hostile clansfolk. It could be surrounded by clans.”

  Two spots of colour appeared on Zandara’s cheeks, but her voice remained calm. “This has all been considered. Even if there are clans in the forest, they cannot match the skill and experience of our army.” There was a murmur of approval round the table at this remark.

  “I agree,” Yannassia said. “You may begin preparations, High Commander. The determination of the optimum date is left to you. Zandara, you will continue to research these forest clans. We do not want any surprises.”

  There was no point in arguing. I had a bad feeling about it, all the same.

  13: The Eagle

  Most people streamed out of the planning room and away to their next engagements, or, more likely, to spread the news far and wide that Bennamore was going to war for the first time in a generation. I gazed down at the map, and wondered where Ly-haam was. The far edge of the map showed just a little of the vast inland sea that was the heart of the Clanlands. I tapped it with my finger. Perhaps he was there, somewhere. That was where most of them lived, so it was said.

  “Yes, I should have liked to take the lake, too,” Yannassia said. Only the two of us remained. “That is where the real profits can be made. A source of fish without bargaining with the Port Holdings – that would be s
o useful to us. And there is a great city there, so it is said. Like the Imperial City, perhaps. But if we can consolidate this first foothold, then in a few years we can expand again.”

  “If we can consolidate it,” I said slowly.

  She waved a hand impatiently. “Whatever happens, it will still be useful practice for the army. They need a skirmish or two every once in a while to keep them in shape. It is a long time since the last war, for I do not count the Vahsi.”

  “Seventeen years.”

  “Yes, when your father was High Commander. That was rash of him, but fortunately it ended well.”

  “It was a brilliantly unexpected move,” I said. “That is often how the best leaders make gains.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Rash,” she said crisply. “No planning, no discussion, he just… took off. And just as abruptly decided not to conquer, but to reach an alliance with them. Most irregular. It ended well, but… he was so irrational at the end, I was quite concerned.”

  “Irrational?” I said in a small voice. I’d already discovered my mother was not quite the unselfish creature I’d imagined. I didn’t want any unpleasant surprises about my father.

  But she smiled. “Never mind. Not important. Is that handsome drusse of yours waiting for you? Better go and find him.”

  Arran was indeed waiting outside for me, along with Cryalla, and Yannassia’s bodyguard. The three of them were chatting and laughing when we emerged from the planning room. The two bodyguards sprang to attention, while Arran uncoiled himself from the bench where he’d been lounging.

  “Come along, you two,” I said. “I have an expedition for us.”

  “Excellent!” Arran said, but Cryalla frowned. Bodyguards are strangely resistant to unplanned excursions.

  I led them to a discreet door hidden behind a curtain. Behind it, uncarpeted stone steps wound down to the basement and up to the upper floors.

  “Servants’ stairs,” I told them. “I don’t want anyone to know where we’ve gone.”