by Jasmine Walt
I arched an eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re afraid of them.”
“It would be foolish not to be.” Iannis’s eyes were hard, glittering chips of amethyst now. “They are largely amoral as a race, and any interaction they have with our world is but a trifling amusement, such as when my grandmother decided to take a human lover. She abducted my grandfather shortly after he was married and bewitched him. Not unlike what Halyma did to me, but Tua magic is infinitely more powerful. She eventually returned him to his wife when she tired of him, but he was never the same, from what I understand. It took him over a year to recover and move on with his life, and not long after that his Tua lover dropped my infant mother on their doorstep before walking away once again.”
“Wait a minute.” I held up a hand as I tried to digest this. “A year? I thought babies had to be in the womb for nine months?”
Iannis shrugged. “Time moves differently in the Tua realm. In any case, my grandfather’s wife was gracious enough to take my mother in as her own, and they raised her as best they could, considering she had powers they didn’t know what to do with. Eventually she became too much for them to control, and they handed her over to the Dromach, a sect of mages in Manuc who are specially trained to deal with the Tua and charged with maintaining the walls that separate Recca from their realm. It was amongst them that she met and married my father, nearly a thousand years ago.”
“A thousand?” I echoed faintly. “Just how old does that make you?”
Iannis smiled slightly. “I believe it’s not polite to ask one’s age.”
I snorted. “That only applies to women, and you know it.” My eyes narrowed as I considered him. “So what exactly did you inherit from your half-Tua mother, then?”
“For one, a longer lifespan than the average mage,” Iannis admitted. “Barring accidents such as tumbling from an airship, I might live to three thousand years of age, if not longer. My lifespan is one of the reasons why my heritage is little known – most mages of my age are nearing the end of their life and show signs of it, when they aren’t using illusion to disguise their wrinkles. It is easy enough to fabricate a history for myself.”
“By Magorah.” I shook my head. “So when I’m old and grey and lying on my deathbed, you’ll still be baby-faced?”
“I don’t know that baby-faced is the right term, but yes.” A troubled expression briefly crossed Iannis’s face. “But as a half-mage, your lifespan should be longer than the average shifter’s.”
“Well that’s good to know,” I said lightly even as my heart sank. For some reason, even though it didn’t matter, I didn’t like the idea that Iannis would look exactly the same as he did now when I was old and grey. I wondered if he would become more aloof with age, or if he would soften up and show more emotion as the years went by. And what about me? Would I become more stern and emotionless like the mages, the more I spent time among them? Or would I retain the wildness of my shifter heritage?
“Okay, so being a quarter Tua means you live super long and you get to run fast, amongst other things?”
“I have a few other tricks up my sleeve, like my healing talent, but yes.” Iannis inclined his head, his lips curling up at the corners. “I can actually run much faster than what you’ve seen, but there was little point in leaving you and Fenris in the dust. Besides, I’m accustomed to hiding my speed, since if my peers noticed they could easily deduce that I’m not a full-mage.”
“Lord Iannis, are you in there?” the Finance Secretary called, interrupting our conversation as he rapped on the door. “I have urgent news.”
Iannis was instantly behind my shoulder as I undid the locks and opened the door. The Finance Secretary was dressed in blue-black robes, the Canalo Mages Guild emblem sewn onto his breast. There was a tightness around his eyes as he inclined his head briefly at me, then swept into the room with a large leather notebook tucked underneath his arm.
“You look agitated, Cirin,” Iannis remarked as I shut the door behind him. “What is this urgent news?”
“I just got word that Zavian Graning is resigning his post as Federation Minister. We’re expected to cast votes for his successor on the last day of the Convention, so I suggest you start thinking about your choice now.”
“Resigning?” Iannis asked, sounding highly alarmed. “Why?”
“For health reasons, apparently.” Cirin perched on the edge of one of the white sofas, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “I’ve no idea as to the nature of his malady, but it must be very serious to prompt such a sudden resignation. When I arrived at the Convention the Minister did seem a little lackluster, but I didn’t think he was that ill.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Iannis argued. “The Minister is a mere four-hundred years old – he should still be in excellent health.”
“Umm, I hate to interrupt,” I said, “but are we talking about the same Minister who’s presiding the Convention?”
“Yes,” Iannis said tightly. “Along with his staff, he organizes the Convention every two years. When it is not in session he ensures Federation law is executed in the various states, and maintains the Federation’s foreign relations.”
“His office is also tasked with bringing any Chief Mage or other high-ranking official who violates the Great Accord in any way to justice,” Cirin added.
Such as Fenris, I wanted to say, but I kept that bit to myself – I doubted the Finance Secretary was privy to Fenris’s true identity. Part of me wanted to say that the Minister could fuck off, but the more rational part of me recognized that if Iannis thought his sudden deterioration was suspicious, there was likely a larger game afoot. It sounded like this Minister was even more important than Iannis. “Do you think the Resistance is involved with this in some way?”
The Finance Secretary’s black brows rose. “How so?”
“Well I mean, they were responsible for the attack on Iannis’s ship,” I pointed out. “They didn’t want him to arrive at the Convention, and I’m wondering if this is why. Maybe they planned to get rid of the Minister for some reason, and took you out because they feared you might be voted in to take his place?”
“Me?” Iannis scoffed. “I doubt that would happen. I’ve not been a Chief Mage long enough. Traditionally, such votes are a mere formality, as the retiring Minister has always suggested his successor. If Graning has not nominated anyone, that would indeed be unusual.”
“I’m not so sure you aren’t a contender,” the Finance Secretary said, tapping his square chin thoughtfully. “From what I’ve been hearing, the Minister’s Office has been very impressed with the way you’ve been cleaning up the Mages Guild and ferreting out key players of the Resistance in Canalo. Add to that the fact that you’ve just come back from the dead, and you may be more popular than you realize.”
“Hmph.” Iannis folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve no plans to become the next Minister, and I would like to know what exactly this malady is that’s befallen our current one. The logical step is to make an appointment to see him.”
The Finance Secretary shook his head. “As far as I understand it, no one knows where he’s being kept.”
“Now that is suspicious,” I said just as the grandfather clock in the living room let out a low gong. We all looked up to see that it was eight o’clock now – where had the time gone?
“We’d better get going,” the Finance Secretary said as he briskly got to his feet. “The session starts in less than half an hour.”
“Very well.” Iannis set down his coffee cup. “After you finish your shopping, head back to the Capitol Building, Miss Baine. You may not be able to attend the Convention itself, but you can still hang about and make good use of your hearing. See if you can find out anything about the Minister’s illness or location, the Resistance, or anything else that might be of use.”
“Does that mean you’re giving me permission to wander around the Capitol Building?” I asked hopefully. The building was three stories, after all,
and I was sure there were all kinds of secrets I could ferret out.
“If it gets us the information we need, I don’t care what you do,” Iannis said. “If we don’t find out what is going on with the Minister, especially now that the Resistance is becoming so bold, the Northia Federation may soon turn down a path of destruction the likes of which it has never seen.”
And with those ominous words, he swept out the door.
23
“Oh, oh oh! We should totally get him these.”
Annia arched an eyebrow as I pulled a set of daffodil-yellow robes from the rack. “Do you want the Chief Mage to cut off your head and put it on a pike outside the Capitol Building?” she asked with a smirk.
“I don’t believe that particular color would go very well with Lord Iannis’s complexion,” the clerk sniffed from behind his counter a few feet away. I glanced over my shoulder to see him push his small, round spectacles up his nose and give us a superior glance. “Perhaps try the maroon robes on the other end.”
“Excellent idea,” I told him, then turned away so I could roll my eyes. “It was just a joke,” I muttered as I reached for the maroon robes the clerk had indicated.
“I figured after all the time you’d spent at Solantha Palace, you’d have realized mages don’t have a sense of humor.”
“Well yeah, but that guy’s human,” I complained.
Annia laughed. “Yeah, but he spends all his time catering to mages. Clearly their attitude has rubbed off on him.”
“I guess so,” I said as I continued to look through the rack. My fingers stopped at a set of dark violet robes with lace edging the collar and cuffs, and I grinned as I pulled it out. “Surely I can get away with this though, right?”
Annia snorted as she gave the robes a once-over. They had silver buttons that traveled from just above the navel to the high collar that would brush the underside of Iannis’s chin. A ridiculous amount of lace frothed from the collar, covering the topmost buttons, and although there was less of the stuff at the cuffs, I knew it would look similarly ridiculous. The paisley pattern that was subtly woven into the fabric was a nice touch too.
“If the Chief Mage looked about a thousand years older, these would be perfect for him,” Annia said.
“I’m not so sure about that,” I muttered. Based on what Iannis had told me this morning, he would look exactly the same a thousand years from now. Shaking my head, I put the garment back. We’d already spent half the morning shopping for ourselves – it was time to wrap this up and get back to the Capitol Building so I could start gathering information.
“Why so serious?” Annia asked twenty minutes later as we walked out of the tailor’s shop. Aside from the new red and silver robes I was wearing, I left empty-handed – the tailor promised to have the robes and my new ball gown delivered to the hotel room by mid-afternoon. “You looked pretty sour-faced when I met up with you at the café this morning, too.”
“It’s just that there’s a lot going on.” We stopped at the curb so we could hail a cab. I lowered my voice so that passersby wouldn’t hear, and explained to Annia about the bad news the Finance Secretary had delivered this morning.
“Well shit,” Annia said as a hansom cab pulled up. The driver, who sat behind the cab rather than in front of it, waved us forward, and we climbed into the cab and settled in for the ride. “Do you think the Resistance has actually managed to brainwash one or more of the delegates onto their side?”
“The Federation Capitol Building,” I called to the driver, then turned my attention back to Annia as he cracked his whip, urging the horses forward. “They converted Argon Chartis, didn’t they?”
“Well, yeah, but he’d already fallen from grace, so to speak, and was hungry for revenge. These guys are all either Chief Mages or have powerful positions in the Mages Guild. What could the Resistance offer them that they’d be willing to trade their cushy positions for?”
“More power?” I shrugged. “Perhaps they’ve managed to convince some disgruntled mage that the Resistance has the upper hand and is going to win. Otherwise, I don’t see why any mage would throw in their lot with them.”
“Yeah, well with the way things have been going lately, that might not be far off from the truth,” Annia said darkly as we rolled up the hill toward the Capitol Building. “I mean, you’ve already uncovered two separate conspiracies, Naya, and that’s in Canalo alone. How many other dangerous pots are the Resistance stirring across the rest of the Federation?”
“It all seems to come back to the Benefactor,” I mused, drumming my fingers against my thigh. “He’s the one stirring all these pots, and if we can catch him and take his spoons away, we might be able to stop this.”
“Yeah, well good luck with that,” Annia said as the cab rolled to a stop in front of the Capitol Building. “I have a feeling that with this bunch, finding the Benefactor is going to be like digging for a piece of dirt in a mound of soil.”
“You’re probably right.” I shook my head, then leaned in and hugged her. “Say hi to Fenris for me, will you?”
“Will do. Try to make it back home in one piece.” Annia winked at me, and I winked back before I turned around and let the driver hand me down from the cab.
I trotted up the steps of the Capitol Building in my new robes, and though the guards studied me with a critical eye as I passed, they made no move to stop me from entering. Unlike yesterday evening, the entrance hall was swarming with activity, both humans and mages alike bustling to and from the building and looking very official. In the center of the entrance hall was a large, mounted map of the building, and I stopped to study it, trying to figure out where I wanted to go. It looked like the main assembly room was located in the Great Rotunda on the first floor, surrounded by smaller meeting rooms. There were a few clerical offices down here, but most of the offices were on the upper floor, on the opposite side of the building from the banquet hall. I wondered if there was anyone up there right now worth eavesdropping on, or if everyone of importance was in the Convention.
Knowing the only way to find out was to go up there, I walked through the entrance hall. I passed a coffee shop on the corner as I turned right, heading for the stairs at the other end of a secondary hall that would take me to the stairs. Unfortunately, there were two guards guarding the steps, and as soon as they saw me they both stepped in front of the staircase, blocking my path.
“I’m sorry, miss, but these stairs are for authorized personnel only,” the guard to my right said. There was a hint of apology in his tone, but he spoke firmly. “Is there someone in particular you’re looking for?”
“No,” I admitted, giving the guards a sheepish smile. I really wanted to vault over their heads and dash up the stairs, but the female mage I was pretending to be wouldn’t be able to do that, so I had to behave. “It’s just that I’m not allowed into the Convention, so I was hoping to find a place to sit and work.” I lifted the leather portfolio that I carried in one hand, which had papers and a notepad in it so I could pretend to be doing something useful if need be.
“If you need a place to wait, I’d suggest the coffee shop.” The second guard pointed back down the hallway. “There is lots of comfortable seating, and the beverages are very good. But you can’t go up these stairs.”
“Thank you.” I briefly inclined my head to the guards, then turned around and walked back to the coffee shop I’d passed earlier. My stomach growled at the scent of fresh pastries, and though I was disappointed at this setback, there were actually quite a few mages sitting at the glossy wooden tables and chairs that I could listen in on. Approaching the dark granite countertop and the glass case of pastries next to it, I ordered a plate of muffins and a large cup of coffee, then brought my fare to the rear of the store, where the walls were lined with cushioned booth backings. I rested my back against the dark green velvet as I settled in at one of the little tables and prepared for a long afternoon.
As I chewed on a blueberry muffin and studied the mages chat
ting away at the tables, I noticed that a number of them were also surreptitiously studying me. It occurred to me that these mages probably saw each other at the Convention every other year, but I was a new face, and they weren’t sure what to make of me.
“Have you noticed that Lord Iannis seems a little…different, from the last time we saw him?” a redheaded mage asked her dark-haired companion.
“How so?” the other mage, also a female, asked. She picked up her white china espresso cup between dainty, painted fingernails and sipped at it like she was having coffee with the queen of Sandia instead of sitting around in a coffee shop with a fellow underling.
“He seems distracted, as if his mind isn’t entirely on the Convention.” The redhead traced the rim of her coffee cup with her forefinger. Her expression gave little away, as was the case with most mages, but it almost seemed like she was pouting. “I was in the Great Rotunda this morning before the session started, and watched him talking with the Chief Mage of Nayra. It just seemed like his mind was elsewhere.”
“Well I can’t say I’m that surprised, considering he arrived so late, and that he brought his mistress along.”
“Mistress?” The redhead’s pale blue eyes widened.
“Yes. You know, her.” The brunette looked over her shoulder and met my eyes. I smiled politely and shifted my gaze back down to my papers, pretending that I hadn’t heard what she’d just said – as far as they knew, I was too far away to hear their conversation.
“Really?” I looked back to see that the redhead’s brows had shot up. “Well she’s got a pretty face, but someone like Lord Iannis could do a great deal better.”
“Oh I’m sure it’s just a fling,” the brunette said airily. “I suppose even the most distinguished Chief Mage is bound to let their hair down occasionally like lesser mortals, but she doesn’t look like she’s doing much more than shuffling papers back there. I can’t see that she’ll serve as more than a passing interest for someone like him.”
