The Fire Mages' Daughter

by Pauline M. Ross

  I took Lathran there and sat him on a marble bench. Then I plied him with sweet wine and cakes, while the rain poured down beyond the open doors. Water gurgled in drains, and splashed on the tiled floor. It was rather fun.

  He ate and drank as if he had starved for a moon, as all swordsmen seemed to. It must be all that muscle needing constant feeding. Between mouthfuls, he chattered happily about his new life at the Elite training camp on the river, and how wonderful it all was, and how many friends he had. He was the same old Lathran, of course, neither well-educated nor terribly bright, but there was something different about him now. An air of confidence, to add to the professional soldier’s physique. He would never be handsome – his face was too forgettable for that – but he had certainly grown up a great deal.

  “But you have had adventures of your own, I hear,” he said. “Being kidnapped by the Blood Clans – what a dreadful business! My parents didn’t tell me anything about it until it was all over, but we heard, of course. Everyone heard. Was it absolutely horrible?”

  “Parts of it, yes.”

  “Only parts?” He laughed. “Well, the boy god is panting for you, I hear, so I suppose some parts were not too bad, eh?” And he winked.

  If only he knew. The boy god panting for me was definitely not a highlight of the experience. I had no wish to go into the details of it, so I waved the subject away with a smile. He prattled on, but I was left with a vivid image of Ly-haam crouched over his cooking stones, chopping fruit and stuffing fish, his face intent. Yes, some parts were not too bad.

  “And now you have your drusse to keep you warm,” he grinned. “I’m glad about that. Mother thought you were lonely before, but you had Vhar-zhin, didn’t you? I always thought that was why you never looked at me, you know? Because of Vhar-zhin. But I guess not. It was just me you didn’t fancy.” He chuckled, not at all discomfited. “Does he look after you, this drusse of yours?”

  Just thinking about Arran brought a warmth to my heart. “Yes, he does. He makes me very happy.”

  Lathran’s face softened, losing the lascivious grin. “Ah, then I’m glad of it. You deserve him. You were always way out of my rank, anyway. I should have had more sense than to reach for the moon.”

  Such honesty took my breath away. “You are too generous, Lathran. You should hate me, if there were any justice. I treated you abominably, and here you are, not in the slightest bit reproachful for all the hurt I caused you, and your parents. I am thoroughly ashamed of my behaviour towards you. I am so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

  He raised his hands in acknowledgement. “Drina, there is absolutely nothing to forgive. When you took notice of me… that was the happiest time of my life. Truly. I’d dreamt about you for so long. I’d imagined what it would be like to be near you, but I never, ever expected it to happen. And there you were, looking at me, laughing at my feeble jokes as if you meant it. I got to kiss you, Drina… and… and the rest of it. It was amazing. Enough to keep me warm for a long time. I never expected it to last, you know. I’m not completely stupid. And then as a result I got to join the Elite, which was another of my dreams, and that’s working out even better than I’d dared to hope.”

  I wondered if he was ever going to take a breath, but he raced straight on, leaning forward in his enthusiasm.

  “They really like me, Drina. Not because I’m particularly good with a sword, I’m not, but I have other things they can use. I’m really ordinary, you know, so I can fit in almost anywhere. Put me in the right clothes, and I can be anyone – a noble, a merchant, a street sweeper, an inn worker, anything you like. I can do accents, too, and I know how to blend in without being seen, and how to follow people. So I’m really useful to the Elite. They’re training me for special work.”

  “Like a spy?” I said. Then realisation dawned. “Or an assassin. You’ve just come back from Icthari lands, haven’t you?”

  He flushed, sitting upright again. “Shit! I’m not supposed to tell anyone. It’s terribly secret.”

  “Well, you didn’t. Besides, I know all about the mission. And I’m glad you were successful. I would have had to marry that hateful man, otherwise.”

  “Yes, thank all the gods the plot was uncovered in time. That was lucky.”

  “Lucky indeed,” I murmured. “But I had no idea about all these special skills you have. You kept very quiet about that.”

  He chuckled. “There’s no point knowing how to do secret stuff if you tell people about it.”

  “True. But how did you learn it all? The accents, following people? Are there books explaining it all?”

  That made him laugh out loud. “Drina, you are priceless! Not everything is in books, you know. My father taught me. He and his brothers knew how to do all these things – made a living from it, too, once. Before he became a mage guard.”

  I tried to imagine Millan sneaking about trailing people, hiding behind bushes to avoid being seen. It seemed unlikely. “I never knew your father has brothers. How many are there?”

  “There were three of them once, but the other two were murdered a long time ago.”

  “Murdered? Both of them? Sweet merciful gods!”

  “Come on, Drina, you must know the story. After all, it was your father who killed them.”

  I gaped at him.

  “And then my father killed him.”

  26: Fathers

  I squealed in shock, my mouth agape.

  He flushed bright red. “Oh, shit! You really didn’t know? Drina, I’m sorry, I was sure Cal and Kyra must have told you. I mean… all that stuff about him being a great hero… I thought you were joking. Being ironic, or something.”

  I couldn’t speak. I could barely catch my breath, and there were no words to express what I felt. Anger? Outrage? Shock? All of those, but perhaps disappointment, too. Everything I’d believed was a lie. As if it wasn’t bad enough that my mother had willingly given me up to Yannassia, now I found out that my father had killed someone. Two people! And Millan, it seemed, had killed him. Yet there Millan was, going about his work as a mage guard as if nothing had happened. He had killed my father – who was also Yannassia’s husband, and the High Commander of all Bennamore – and received no punishment for it. How could that happen?

  Even when I recovered my voice, Lathran refused to tell me anything about it. “You’ll have to ask my father,” he said.

  So we went to the mages’ house, and waited for Millan to come home, and then he wouldn’t tell me anything, either. “It’s for Cal to explain it. And your mother, of course. It was their story, not really mine.”

  We waited. Cal arrived, and Millan whisked him into a corner, where the two bent their heads together and whispered, throwing worried glances in my direction from time to time. I sat, fuming, saying nothing, while Lathran paced, and Tisha bounced back and forth between the room we sat in and the kitchen. The servants needed a great deal of supervision with evening board, it appeared.

  Eventually, Mother arrived, tired from dealing with Yannassia. “Everybody makes so much fuss,” she grumbled. “It’s only a pregnancy, and she is perfectly fit otherwise. Well. You all look as cheerful as a wet harvest. Has somebody died?”

  “Drina wants to know about her father,” Cal said. “In particular, how he came to kill Millan’s brothers, and how Millan came to kill him.”

  “Ah. That.”

  “Yes, that,” I spat. “Don’t you think I had a right to know?”

  “Of course. But… I hated to spoil your illusions of him. To be honest, I imagined Yannassia would tell you about it.”

  “You left everything to Yannassia, didn’t you? A fine mother you were!”

  Cal was about to protest, but Mother raised a hand. “No, it’s all right. I deserve that. Drina, your father wasn’t an evil man, not really. But he was neglected as a child and it left him with a deep resentment. So when he had a chance of power, he seized it, and it led him astray, I’m afraid. He used his mage powers for his own advancement. He
had a unique ability – he could persuade people to do whatever he wanted. People fell under the spell of his voice. The Drashon, the court, the Nobles’ Council, the army…”

  “The Port Holdings,” Cal added. “He took the army down there to start a war, but in fact he just talked them into handing everything over to him.”

  “To Bennamore,” Mother said sharply. “He took nothing for himself.”

  “So why did he kill Millan’s brothers?” I asked. “What was the point of that if he could just talk people round?”

  Millan stirred. “One of my brothers, Lakkan, was a natural mage, just like Kyra and your father. Your father couldn’t spell mages with his voice, so Lakkan was a threat to his plans. And then my other brother, Daskan, tried to kill him, but failed. He tried to tell people about Lakkan’s murder, but your father had him executed on the spot, before the accusation could be heard.”

  My mouth was round with astonishment, but I could see the sincerity in him.

  “And then he tried to kill Kyra,” Millan went on.

  “My father tried to kill my mother?”

  “And you,” Cal said. “She was pregnant at the time. And me, too, come to that. He was getting desperate by that time. But I’d set Millan to follow him and make sure Kyra came to no harm, so that’s what he did. He put a crossbow bolt through your father. But of course we couldn’t tell anyone that.”

  “Because it would have been seen as revenge,” Millan said. “They’d have said I wanted vengeance for my two brothers. And I did, too, but I would never have done it if he hadn’t been trying to kill Kyra.”

  “And me,” I whispered. “My father tried to kill me.”

  “That was when I knew he’d gone beyond help,” Mother said softly. “He was so proud of you to start with. His first child. He was so looking forward to your birth. But… he just went crazy, somehow. He wasn’t rational any more.”

  Silence fell over us like a blanket. I guessed there was more to tell, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  “Are you all right, petal?” Cal said.

  Of course I wasn’t, but I nodded mutely. Cal walked me back to my apartment, saying nothing, but at the door he pulled me close, squeezing my arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Drina.” And then he spun round, coat tails flying, and strode off.

  Arran fell on me with a huge sigh. “Thank the Sun God! There you are! Wherever have you been?”

  “Sorry. The meeting broke up early. I’ve been at the mages’ house.”

  “I was worried about you. Maybe you could send me word next time?”

  I nodded.

  “Ah, my sweet, you look so down. But there is good news. Our evening’s entertainment has been cancelled because of Yannassia’s illness, so I have ordered evening board for us here. A cosy meal, just the two of us. The cook has a goose, and there is some fish – I know how you love fish. And while we eat, you can tell me all about the war council and Yannassia and everything else.”

  That perked me up a little – a whole evening, just the two of us. Arran’s company wasn’t as comforting to me as usual, though, for he, too, had heard something of my father’s crimes, although he knew nothing of Millan or his brothers.

  “He had himself made High Commander, you know, your father,” he said. “He had the previous High Commander executed, and most of his senior commanders. All done properly, with trials and so forth, but in great haste. And then he got himself made High Commander. My father told me. The Nobles’ Council was completely in your father’s hand, but the minor nobles, like my father, were incensed about it. He actually came up to Kingswell to protest, and he never leaves Hexmore, never. That is how upset he was. But nothing could be done about it. Could you pass the sauce, my love? This meat is a little dry.”

  I passed the jug in silence. What was there to say? I was still glum when we went to bed.

  “Ah, you must not let it get you down, my little flower,” Arran said, scooping me into his arms, and nuzzling my neck. “I have never believed that such evil can be passed in the blood. There is no taint on you.”

  I hadn’t even thought about that. I wondered now if a great deal of the nobles’ dislike of me had stemmed from such concerns. Although my own bad behaviour was probably enough to account for it.

  “Come to bed, my love,” he said. “I will make you forget all this.”

  “Not tonight, if you don’t mind. I’m really not in the mood.”

  “It will make you feel better, and—”

  “I said no.”

  He jerked backwards. “Oh. Well, of course, if you feel like that about it. You command, and I obey, as always.”

  He undressed in silence, and climbed into bed, rolling onto one side so that he would face away from me.

  But long after his breathing had slowed, and I knew he was asleep, I sat hunched on the window seat watching the rising moon, and wept for all my dreams that had crumbled to dust.

  ~~~~~

  Arran was gone when I woke, and his training sword and bow, so I guessed where he was. Still huffy with me, probably. Well, he could huff as much as he liked. He was here to take care of my needs, not the other way round. There were too many people making demands on me, and it was too annoying for words for him to add to that number.

  I was drooping over my solitary morning board, when Cal swept in. “All alone, petal? Want some company?”

  My food taster loitered nearby, as well as a couple of guards at the door, so I was hardly alone, but I was too pleased to argue.

  “Oh – yes, please. Arran’s gone off to the barracks.”

  “Hmm.” He frowned. “Well, good job I came, then. I don’t think you should be on your own after—” His lips twisted. Head down, he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite me. I poured him some hot brew from the pot which sat on a burner on a small table beside me, waving the food taster out of earshot.

  “After finding out that my father was a murderer?”

  “Well – something like that. Anyway, it’s always nice to have a meal with my favourite—” He threw me a sideways glance, as he reached for the loaf and broke off a chunk. “I shouldn’t say it, I know, and you aren’t my blood, even, but you are my favourite child. Markell and Sallorna have their good points, but neither of them have your spark, somehow.”

  “You mean I’m awkward and rude and cause trouble wherever I go?”

  “No, not that.” He smiled, his thin face lighting up. “You were never predictable or dull. It made you fascinating. I’m very privileged to have watched you grow up, and I’m proud of the way you’ve adapted to life here. I know it’s not what you wanted.”

  “Very true! I did some outrageous things to escape my fate.”

  “And very entertaining they were too, but don’t tell your mother I said so.” His eyes twinkled as he grinned at me.

  An unexpected wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was so familiar, so comfortable sitting here with Cal. At any moment, Mother would bustle in, scolding one or other of the children, there would be an argument over who had eaten all the fruit bread, and Sallorna would drop a piece of cheese and there would be a scuffling under the table to retrieve it.

  Hot tears pricked my eyelids, and I couldn’t stop them overflowing, and coursing down my cheeks.

  “Oh, petal, don’t cry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  I shook my head. “Not you. It’s just…” For a moment I scrabbled for the right words, and came up empty-handed. All I could do was weep quietly.

  He got up and walked round the table, holding out his hand to me. He had beautiful hands, with long, slim fingers. I’d always loved watching him do magely things, his hands carving elegant patterns in the air.

  Now, I placed my pudgy hand in his, my fingers dark against his pale skin, and let him lead me to an overstuffed sofa across the room.

  “Here, sit. Do you want some wine?”

  I shook my head.

  So he put his arms around me, and held me while my
tears dripped into his coat, rocking me like a child. He said nothing, waiting patiently while I mastered my distress.

  “Better?” he said at last, when I’d quieted.

  “I wish I could go home!” I cried.

  Mother would have told me not to be so silly, that I had to accept my fate, but Cal just squeezed me a little tighter. “I wish you could, too, in some ways. But you were always ill there.”

  “Only because Mother refused to help me.” He said nothing to that. “I hate it here. I don’t want to be Drashonor, I never have. I feel like… like a sheep that’s been herded into a pen and I can’t escape. There’s no way out. I’m trapped.”

  “I don’t have any comfort to offer you, Drina. We all have to play the part that’s handed to us by the gods, but yours seems particularly harsh. You’re too young to be caged like this. Your mother and I both think so. That’s why we’ve stayed on, because we’re worried about you. We’ve suggested to Yannassia that she find something less constraining for you to do for a year or two – maybe send you to the Port Holdings as ambassador or some such – but she thinks it would just give Zandara too much of an opening. Yannassia’s very determined to make you her heir.”

  “I know. I’ve tried everything to convince her I’d make a terrible heir.”

  He chuckled. “I’m afraid you must make the best of it. Take your happiness where you can, Drina. At least you have Arran.” He must have seen something in my face, for he hugged me again. “Ah. A quarrel? That’s normal. All couples have their differences.”

  “You and Mother don’t.”

  “Of course we do, but we keep them private, that’s all. We argue, we make up – it doesn’t change anything. I still love your mother more than life itself.”

  He spoke so fiercely that for a moment I was shocked. “And does she love you?”

  Cal’s face softened. “Yes – in her own way. Your mother is an extraordinary woman, Drina. Rare and beautiful and free as a butterfly. We never married, you know. She didn’t want it, nor a drusse contract. Nothing official. And I never wanted to trap her in a web of legal nonsense. So she wrote her own contract, and we both signed it. Every year, on the anniversary, we sign it again. And I know that she stays with me because she wants to. Not everyone would be content with that, but I am.”