by Karen Miller
“I’m sorry, Lord Varen,” she said, not looking up. “I don’t mean to be rude.”
Venette snorted. “And yet you are. Can it be you’re trying to give us a bad impression of you?”
The girl lifted her gaze, stricken. “No!”
“Then tell us what happened.”
“Lord Hahren tried to lay hands on me. I was afraid. I lashed out.”
“With magic,” said Shari, unmoved. “Even a rustic from the Eleventh district must know that is a crime.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t tried to snatch at me!”
“It wouldn’t have happened,” Varen countered coldly, “if you’d taken no for an answer.”
And that was indisputably true. The look on the girl’s face was as good as a confession.
Idly, Venette smoothed a wrinkle in her mauve silk sleeve. “Why didn’t you?”
The girl’s cheeks pinked again. “Because I dispute the notion that only those mages born to a First Family are worthy enough to study in the College.”
“Mage Lindin, we are not interested in your opinions,” said Varen, brusque with impatience. “You are not standing here because we want you to air them. We understand you’ve been dismissed from your employment.”
“I recently left Master Arndel’s artisanry,” the girl said, wary now. “Yes.”
“Stop prevaricating!” said Sallis. “You were dismissed.”
“Unfairly! My lord, I prevented a terrible accident and saved the artisanry. But the mage at fault lied. Arndel took his word over mine because he doesn’t like me.”
And that was the truth. They could all hear it. But instead of expressing sympathy, Varen shook his head. “It seems you find trouble at every turn, Barl Lindin. It seems you are a mage who has yet to learn her place.”
“My place is in the College,” the girl said, no longer defiant. Almost beseeching. “Look!”
Without asking permission, she summoned a paperweight from somewhere. Hahren’s chamber, perhaps? Then, even as Sallis and Shari protested, with astonishing ease she transmuted the clear crystal globe into a perfect porum blossom. A whispered incant, a swift sigil, and the crystal flower flooded blue, flooded emerald, flooded violet, flooded gold, the rainbow colours cascading, the girl’s mastery complete. Another incant, another sigil, and the flower transmuted into an eagle, fluid and effortless, snatched timeless out of flight.
Morgan felt his breath catch. Barl Lindin’s command and artistry were flawless.
Unimpressed, Varen surged to his feet. “Enough! You are not brought before us to perform parlour tricks.”
A flash of desolate fury, then Barl Lindin lowered her head.
“We succeed as a society not because we are mages,” Varen continued, implacable, “but because we understand the limits of our power. We understand there must be restraint, and balance, a careful order maintained that we might not be overcome. Your indiscipline, Barl Lindin, is a threat to that order.”
The girl’s head lifted sharply. “And do you call it indiscipline when a ranked mage—”
“Hold your tongue, Mage Lindin! This is not a debate!”
She wanted to argue that, but wisely refrained.
“With the exception of this Council,” Varen said, “it is a capital crime for a mage to use magic on another. Barl Lindin, do you claim ignorance of that fact?”
“My lord—” The girl swallowed. “I was protecting myself.”
“Do you claim ignorance?”
“No.” She swallowed again. “My lord.”
There was courage in the answer… and beneath that, despair. As though the enormity of her predicament had finally struck home. Staring at her, Morgan saw her brilliant blue eyes fill with tears.
If I don’t speak up, they’ll slay her. And if I do…
If he didn’t he would find it hard to live with himself.
“Lord Varen, I think perhaps it’s an overstatement to call this a capital crime,” he said, striving to sound indifferent. “I say we bind the insolent child so she cannot bloody anyone else’s nose while contemplating the manifest error of her ways.”
Sallis slewed round in his chair. “Are you addled, Danfey? Binding is for misdemeanours.”
“You’d put her to death, Lord Arkley? For doing no more harm to Hahren than if she’d slapped him across the face?”
“But she didn’t slap him, did she?” Shari said, vicious. “She used an incant. She broke the law.”
“If her intent had been to kill, Lord Hahren would surely be dead. So it’s my contention there was no murderous intent, in which case this is not a capital crime, therefore—”
“Start down that road and we will reach no helpful destination,” said Sallis. “Bend the law for this unruly girl and I tell you, the day will come when we’ll regret our foolish leniency!”
Hating him, Morgan glared. “I prefer to think of it as mercy.”
“Word games!” Sallis snarled. “I’ll not play them. Besides, the end result will be the same, as Lord Varen rightly points out. Chaos. Lawlessness. An overturning of the social order, which has served us for centuries. And I for one will not abide by—”
“Actually?” Venette’s mild voice halted the tirade. “I feel Morgan has a valid point. I’m sorry.” She flicked Varen a look. “But if you mean to sit there, Sallis, and deny all knowledge of magical dust-ups caused by hot-blooded young bucks in any number of First Families, then although it would pain me, I’d have to call you a liar.”
Sallis Arkley drew back as though she’d spat on him. “That’s different, Venette, and you know it!”
“Really?” she said, still mild. “Lord Arkley, just recently your son was involved in an unfortunate situation, and he was given the benefit of the doubt. Are you saying that if the prank had run the contrary way you’d be baying for that other young man’s blood? For no better reason than his family is unranked?”
Morgan held his breath. Of course he would. But how could Arkley admit it and not brand himself unfit for the Council? Unfit for any power at all? He risked a glance at Barl Lindin. She stood before them as though carved from alabaster, her linen-covered breasts scarcely lifting as she breathed. Did she realise her brimming tears had spilled onto her pale cheeks?
“We stray far from the purpose,” said Varen, his tone and stare quelling. “Given the facts before us, I concur with Councillor Danfey. Binding is a sufficient punishment. This time.”
“Binding for how long?” said Shari. She sounded disappointed, as though the shedding of blood would have cured her of megrim. “This was no harmless prank.”
“Until we are satisfied that the lesson has been learned,” said Varen. “I see no need to place a limit on its term.”
At that, the girl stirred. “You’d bind me for life?”
Varen’s lips thinned into an austere smile. “That will be your choice, Mage Lindin. Not ours.”
“Have Morgan do it,” Venette suggested. “We’ve all of us done a judicial binding. We shouldn’t deprive him of the experience.”
“Agreed,” said Varen, and resumed his seat. “Morgan?”
Stupidly, he felt as though Venette had somehow betrayed him. He looked at her, and she looked back, her neatly plucked eyebrows arched, a challenging glitter in her eyes. So. Though he’d surely tried, he’d failed to hide his visceral reaction to Barl Lindin. And Venette, who’d appointed herself matchmaker for Maris Garrick, had decided to take it as a personal affront.
Curse you, Venette. I do not deserve this!
His turn to suffer the glare of full scrutiny. He could no more refuse to do this than Sallis Arkley could admit his unseemly prejudice and hypocrisy.
“My lord,” he said, nodding to Varen, and pushed out of his chair.
To her credit, the girl stood her ground as he approached. She didn’t even lean away from him as he took the crystal eagle from her and put it on the Council table, then settled the fingers of his left hand gently on her face.
&nbs
p; Her eyes are so blue. I could drown in them, like a lake.
“This will hurt,” he said, keeping his tone impersonal. “Do not fight me. You’ll only make things worse.”
She said nothing, only stared at him with her blue, blue lake eyes.
The judicial binding incant was one of several severely restricted magics to which he’d been made privy after his swearing in as a councillor. Once he’d learned its sigils and syllables he’d pushed it far to one side, along with the rest. Its imposition was rare. He’d never thought the day would come when he’d be called upon to use it.
I do not want to use it now. Barl, I am sorry.
And why that should be, he couldn’t begin to understand. Nothing about this Barl Lindin, or what she stirred in him, made any sense.
Fingertips touching her cheekbones, her brow, he lowered his eyelids to mask her from his sight. He couldn’t watch while he hurt her. He wasn’t that strong.
His fellow councillors were watching him. He could feel the weight of Varen’s cool stare, the heat of Venette’s irritated regard. He cared less about Sallis Arkley and Shari Frieden. Nothing he did or could do would ever impress them.
He drew the binding’s first sigil on the chamber’s still air. Left it there curdling, and spoke the incant’s first cruel words. Beneath his fingers, the girl flinched. He heard a breath catch in her throat. But he couldn’t let that move him. He couldn’t afford to care.
Barl Lindin wasn’t the only one on trial.
Five more sigils, five more tongue-twisting parts to the binding incant. Then he had to open his eyes. Even with his back to Varen and the others he didn’t dare let the regret show in his face. Her face might reflect it, betray him, and he’d have questions to answer.
But she was too mired in her own distress to be any danger to him.
The five sigils, each one a fiery crimson, surrounded her in a tight circle at shoulder height. They pulsed with the power of the yet-untriggered incant, flickering her with heat and light. The chamber’s air was thick with threatening promise, slickly coated with fear and pain. The girl was sickly pallid, her breathing swift and shallow. Her small hands were clenched to fists by her sides. And her eyes—her blue eyes—
Don’t look at me like that, girl! You brought this on yourself. You should’ve stayed in Batava, where you were safe.
But if she’d stayed in Batava he’d never have met her.
Those astonishing, pain-filled eyes narrowed. “Well, my lord?” she said tightly. “What are you waiting for? Do it!”
Her courage nearly broke him.
“Takra!” he said, and triggered the incant.
The five sigils flared, garish, like fire fanned by a wild wind. Barl Lindin gasped, her slight body shocked rigid. A heartbeat later she started trembling. Then the incants melted one into the next, began rising and falling and spinning, the circle shrinking… shrinking…
The melded sigils touched her shaking shoulders and swiftly sank into her flesh.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh no… please, no…”
Morgan caught her as she crumpled, and lowered her gently to the floor.
I’m sorry. Forgive me. You must have seen I had no choice.
But he couldn’t see how she would, when he doubted he’d ever forgive himself.
Chapter Fourteen
Excellent, Councillor Danfey,” said Lord Varen behind him. “That was neatly done.”
There was bile in his throat, sour and scorching. Staring at the bound girl at his feet, Morgan rose then stepped back. Made himself turn and stare Venette in the face.
She was smiling. “Yes, indeed. Very neatly, especially for a first attempt. It seems you have a knack for the harsher incants, Morgan.”
On the floor, Barl Lindin was whimpering. The pitiful sound closed his throat. “The girl was foolish and arrogant. Of course she had to be punished. But if you think I should take pleasure in that, then—”
“No-one here has suggested it,” said Varen, curt. He glanced at their fellow councillors. “And if I thought anyone did I should be forced to reconsider his or her place on this Council.”
“So, the upstart’s bound,” said Shari Frieden. Whatever pleasure she felt, to see the girl huddled and hurting, humbled, she made sure to hide it. She wasn’t a fool. “But that still begs the question of what’s to be done with her next.”
“Has she family in Batava?” said Venette. “Does anyone know?”
Varen shook his head. “I’ve no idea, but even if she does we can’t send her back there. It’s too far away for us to judge her contrition. Besides, it’s clear her family has been no good influence, else she’d not find herself in this predicament. She’ll spend the night here, in the Hall, closely watched. Bindings have been known to go awry.”
“Fine,” said Sallis. “But what happens tomorrow? The Hall’s not a judiciary.”
“One challenge at a time,” said Varen, mildly enough. “First let us see how Mage Lindin passes the night.” He frowned, considering her. “Between now and the morning I’ll give a measure of thought to how she can best be accommodated in the weeks to come.”
“You may think on her ’til the sun sets in the north,” said Venette. “But I give you fair warning, Brice. If it’s a custodian you’re looking for, I’ll not be her keeper.”
“Nor I,” said Shari Frieden, eyeing the girl with distasteful contempt. “I won’t abide such a troublemaker under my roof.”
Turning, Morgan looked down at the girl shivering on the chamber’s floor. No outward sign was on her, but any mage of talent would know she’d been bound. She felt like the bright sun, shadowed with clouds. Muffled. Stifled. He thought that was the reason for her distress. Once the binding was in place, the incant caused a mage no pain.
Poor thing. Were such a thing done to me, I think I might go mad.
He turned back to Varen. “I’ll take her, my lord.”
Sallis laughed. “You, Morgan?”
“Why not, Lord Arkley? Or are you suggesting that Lord Varen shoulder the burden?”
“Provided she passes the night without incident, she should be consigned to a judiciary,” said Shari, impatient. “She deserves no more consideration than that.”
“Exactly,” said Venette, nodding approval. “To dispose of her otherwise would set an unfortunate precedent.”
Frowning, Varen shifted his gaze. “You disagree, Morgan?”
Careful… careful… “My lord, the girl might be bound but her tongue is still free to wag. We’re all of us agreed she’s a troublemaker. Do we really need to chance her causing mischief for the Council?”
“That’s easily fixed,” said Sallis. “Keep her solitary. Keep her drugged. Or is there a binding incant that can be twisted to still her tongue?”
Varen’s frown became a scowl. “Three solutions that would not reflect well upon this Council. We are more civilised, I think, than a Feenish warlord.”
This time Morgan did not hide his feelings. “I should think so, my lord. The girl’s crime was not so great. Kept close at the Danfey estate she won’t cause trouble. Our master servant is strict. He can be trusted with her supervision.”
“And she’ll do what, precisely, while she’s in your tender care?” Venette demanded. “Twiddle her thumbs and stare out of the nearest window as she plots a revenge against the mages who’ve dared thwart her ludicrous ambitions?”
Oh, she was displeased, wasn’t she? Well, it couldn’t be helped.
You were my mother’s friend, Venette, but that does not make you her replacement.
“No, Lady Martain,” he said, very cool. “Mage Lindin will perform whatever menial household tasks Rumm sees fit to assign her.”
“And Lord Danfey will agree to this unusual arrangement?” said Shari, sounding skeptical.
“Lord Danfey does not concern himself with domestic matters,” he replied, and again looked to Varen. “I’ve no doubt that a few weeks spent scrubbing floors and kitchen pots and dusting ev
ery crevice of the mansion will push home to Mage Lindin the benefits of living an unremarkable, unnoticed life.”
Varen’s lips twitched. “Nor do I doubt it. Very well, Morgan. But since I’d not usurp Lord Danfey’s authority, be sure to gain his express permission for this. And come the morning—” He glanced down at Barl Lindin, motionless on the floor. “We’ll see how things stand.”
“With luck,” Sallis added, “she’ll expire through the night, and serve as a warning to other reckless, unranked mages.”
Rage pounding through him, Morgan shifted until his back was turned full upon the man. “Lord Varen, if we are done with this distasteful business, I’d beg your leave to depart. My father insists on keeping awake until I’m safely home, and I’d not unduly tire him.”
Varen nodded. “Of course. But I’ll see you back here first thing.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And I want the Jordane matter dealt with on the morrow, as well,” Varen added. “Discreetly.”
Morgan bowed. “Yes, my lord.”
Without looking again at Barl Lindin, without bidding farewell to Venette, or offering Sallis and Shari the most cursory good manners, he withdrew from the chamber, and at the first warded alcove he came to, savagely chanted a travel incant… and left the Hall behind.
Stepping into the Danfey family crypt, he summoned glimfire. Light and shadow played over smooth walls and flagstoned floor and Luzena’s tomb, where she slept instead of in his bed. She had been his chosen wife so he’d claimed the privilege, fiercely. Her family of course had not prevailed against him.
No-one prevailed against him, once his mind was made up.
He stood beside her, his lost love, aching with loss, as his conjured glimfire played over her smooth marble face.
“You understand, Luzena? Don’t you? Where else could the girl go where she’d not be abused? A judiciary would’ve kept her penned like an animal. And with my binding incant on her, how could I allow that? Knowing that she suffered, that I was the cause, and knowing too there’d be scant kindness offered? As for buffeting Hahren—” He had to smile. “I’ve often wanted to buffet him myself. But if ever desire did outrun prudence, my Council rank would protect me. Should Barl Lindin be left vulnerable, for no better reason than she’s unranked? She made a mistake. There’s no shame in showing her mercy.”
