Ah, that was all right. A surge of excitement raced through me, for this was working out better than I’d dared to hope. I allowed myself to think with satisfaction of a blazing fire in my room whenever I wanted, and three hot meals a day. And a private bathing room. Such bliss.
I inclined my head graciously. “I believe that would be permissible. I’m sure we can agree terms.”
“Terms? The fees are fixed, I am given to understand?”
“For my recording duties, Lord Mage. Any advice on local customs and so forth would be in addition, of course.”
“Ah. I see. Very well. When can you start work, do you think?”
“I can move in today, if you wish.”
“Move in?”
I sighed inwardly. Had the man read nothing of the required terms? “A recorder always lives in the employer’s house, Lord Mage.”
For a moment I hesitated, but if I didn’t ask outright, they might not think of it. “Unless you have other plans for the tower, I should prefer a suite there. I shall take all meals with the family. If you admit clients to the house, I must attend as well. If you leave the house in your professional capacity, I shall accompany you. This is to ensure you transact no business without my presence. As required by law.”
His mouth flapped open like a fish.
I was tempted to laugh. “This is acceptable to you?”
He nodded, unable to frame any words.
“Good. Perhaps you would like me to discuss the servant problem with the house controller for you? The sooner the better, you know. And have you given any orders for supper tonight? What do you like to eat?”
It was the son who answered. “Venison. And some pigeon or pheasant or some such. I am sick of fish.”
“I’ll arrange it. I shall see you at the noon table, Lord Mage Losh, Lord Mage Kael.”
And with that I swept out, triumphant.
3: The Tower
The house controller’s office was beside the front door, and it was the work of a few moments to pass on the mages’ orders. The house controller looked exultant. His Bennamorian opposite number bowed and withdrew stiffly without a word.
I asked to be shown to my room at the top of the tower. The controller bowed, and with no more than a score of words sent servants scurrying for linens, firewood, ewers of water and towels. He led the way with stately steps to a heavy wooden door with iron hinges, and up the narrow staircase beyond.
By the time we had progressed to the top, there was quite a long procession of laden servants behind us, including two boys carrying large vases of flowers. Such attention to detail was admirable, although I had no idea where they found fresh flowers so early in the year. It was apparent I would be very comfortable here.
The controller threw open the door, and I almost gasped in delight. With every new employer, I had asked for a suite, but they all had children and aunts and cousins, together with hordes of other hangers-on, making their houses as cramped as a beehive. The best I’d ever managed was a small dressing room off the bedroom. Once, just once, I’d had a private room for washing in.
But this was a proper suite with its own entrance hall, a large sitting room, a bedroom almost as big, a smaller second bedroom, a sizeable dressing room lined with closets, and – oh joy! – my own bathing room, with a tub and valves and hot water pipes wide enough to hang towels on. I walked from room to room in a daze, as dust sheets were whisked away, curtains and shutters flung open, fires laid in both the larger rooms and the bed made up. I was so overjoyed I couldn’t speak. It was perfect.
When I came back into the sitting room, now smelling of apple-wood and spring blossoms and beeswax polish, I found the tree-like guard lounging against the door post, idly picking at his teeth. He watched me with amusement.
“You must have a head for heights, wanting to live all the way up here,” he drawled, his Bennamore accent strong. “You’ll be like one of those fair ladies from the legends, locked up in towers by their fathers.”
His mouth quirked up at the corners. Was he flirting with me? What a nerve.
“Not very like,” I said repressively. “At least I shall be able to come and go as I please.”
“But alike in another way, I’d say,” he smirked. Was that a wink?
I rolled my eyes. “Have you no duties needing your attention, Master Guard? Or are you here to supervise the removal of dust sheets?”
He laughed and walked further into the room, plucking a small pink flower from a vase. “I came to see what the attraction was in this dank old tower, but now that the fires are lit, I begin to get the point.” One arm swept around to encompass the whole room.
“The attraction is over there.” I pointed to the window.
“The view?” He strode across the room, his long legs reaching the window in a few strides. “Ah! The whole bay. But what is that building there?” He beamed at me, all innocence.
I sighed. I knew what he was doing, of course, but I didn’t want to be rude to someone who could influence my employers. Not yet, anyway. “That is the light tower. It shines a lantern on dark nights to keep ships from smashing onto the rocks below. And now, even if you have nothing better to do than admire the ocean, I do.”
He made a deep bow, and ushered me towards the stairs. “Let me not keep you from your appointed tasks, fair lady.”
With a lascivious grin, he tucked the flower behind my ear.
It was all I could do not to slap him.
~~~~~
That day’s noon table was the finest meal I’d enjoyed in years. Master Krend had always kept a generous table, but not imaginative. We’d lived on fish, fish and more fish, with greasy pork stews and thin soups. Roast meat was only for festivals. The mages, bless them, liked a wider array of food, and plenty of it. There was boiled chicken, cold duck legs, potted and smoked beef, several kinds of eggs, cheeses and three kinds of bread. And fish, of course, but that wasn’t unusual enough to be interesting. It was all cold, since the kitchens were still in disarray, but I didn’t care about that.
There were seven of us at table. Apart from the two mages, the guards and me, there were two other men there. One was older, with stringy reddish hair, his attention all on the mages.
The other man was younger, perhaps my age, dark haired and wiry, and made straight for me. “The Blessings of the Goddess to you, Mistress.” He touched his chin respectfully.
“You are from the Holdings?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. He wore the same style of clothes as the others, his hair was long and his face as beardless as a child’s. He even spoke with a Bennamore accent.
“Yes, from Dellonar, but my family worked the trade routes and I settled in Yannitore when I met Lenya.” He indicated the female guard.
“Yannitore?”
“The very pleasant town we all come from.” The tall guard appeared at my shoulder.
Somewhere in Bennamore, then. I wondered why they left it at all, if it was so pleasant.
While we ate, I said next to nothing, paying no attention to them. They were self-consciously cheerful at first, but after a while they forgot I was there and relaxed, and I learned something about them.
The older mage, Losh, was clearly the leader. The others quieted when he spoke and listened respectfully. No one disagreed with him. The younger mage said nothing and was ignored. The other older man seldom spoke, but Losh took notice of his opinions.
Lenya, the female guard, chattered incessantly to the Holdings man, who smiled and laughed at every little joke, leaning in towards her. The tree-like guard seldom spoke, occasionally asking how I liked the food, or reaching something for me. But when the meal was finished and the others drifted away from the table, he slid his chair nearer to mine.
“Would you like an apple, fair lady?” With a wolfish grin he twirled one hand and unfurled his fingers to reveal the fruit, wrinkled but enticingly red.
I didn’t want to encourage him, but the fruit was so tempting. “I— Thank you
, Master Guard.”
“Mallaron. Or just Mal, if you prefer.”
I concentrated on cutting the apple. So white and juicy inside, so delicious. When had I last eaten fresh fruit? And at this time of year, too. I crunched each piece, then licked the juice from my lips, not wanting to waste a drop.
When I looked his way again, he was grinning inanely at me. I supposed my enjoyment amused him. I didn’t care. There is a simple pleasure in good food, and I wasn’t ashamed of my indulgence.
“So, fair lady, you have been observing us for an hour. Do you have us sorted out?” His voice was low enough not to be overheard.
I said nothing, mopping up the apple juice on my plate with bread.
He didn’t wait for an answer. “Lord Mage Losh and Corsell are lovers, I expect you spotted that. Corsell is also his dresser. They’ve been together for years. Lord Mage Kael is unattached, but I don’t recommend you try your luck there. He’s – strange.” He lowered his voice, although it was already low enough not to be overheard. “Fortunately for you, I am also unattached, and available for any kind of affair you may desire, short or long.” He grinned at me, but I ignored him. “And Lenya is married to Wornest, one of your people.”
That forced a response from me. “Hardly! He’s from Dellonar.” I wrinkled my nose.
His eyes lit up with glee. “Oh, tell me all! What’s wrong with the place?”
“It’s lawless, full of drunken miners. The civilised Port Holdings are from Shannamar to Greet Bay, and not beyond.”
“What about Bennamore? Is that civilised?”
“You rose against a peaceful ally with an army, Master Guard. You tell me.”
He smiled at me and nodded, but made no response.
~~~~~
I had no trouble settling into the Red Hold. I was allowed fires in my rooms day and night, and I woke each morning to find the girl had already crept in to build a good blaze. Once the kitchens settled down, there was hot food on the table for every meal, and roast meat in the evening. I bathed twice a day in my own tub. It was blissful.
There was no work yet for the mages. They had put out the word that their powers could be purchased for silver – healings and blessings, apparently – but so far there were no takers.
With no transactions to record, I had little to do. The two mages could read and write, so I was not needed for secretarial work. I spent an hour each morning with them, educating them in Holding ways, or explaining our history and laws.
The younger one blinked at me vacantly. The older one listened and asked penetrating questions. He had read my details in full now, and wanted to know all about my time in Carrinshar. He asked about my previous life, naturally, but I closed down that line of inquiry very quickly.
I asked why it was that Bennamore had sent mages to Carrinshar, one of the smallest and least important Holdings. The older mage laughed at the question.
“There is a road that leads due south from Riverbend to Carrinshar, one of the few paved roads between Bennamore and the coast. Never underestimate the importance of a good road, Fen.”
I couldn’t quite agree with him there. Give me a sturdy ship, and I’d take the sea and rivers over his good roads any day. Everywhere of importance could be reached by water. But I didn’t want to argue the point.
“There will be mages in every coastal town, in time, but we have to start somewhere, would you not agree?” He beamed at me, and I nodded and smiled back.
He seemed a benevolent old man, but he was abrupt with the servants, and querulous when anything was amiss. Used to his own way, I guessed. He kept his claws hidden with me, but I was careful not to upset him. As to the younger mage, I wasn’t sure there was anything to hide. His habitual expression was bored blankness, varied by hand-wringing anxiety if anything out of the ordinary occurred. I set him down as simple. Hardly surprising in a man of thirty still trailing in his father’s wake.
Apart from these teaching sessions, my time was my own. I soon learned the routine of the household. The Bennamorians kept very regular hours, so it wasn’t difficult to predict where they would be at any given hour. The servants’ schedule was even more rigid. During part of each day, I was free to prowl around unobserved, exploring. It was the best part of a new job, finding out all the secret hiding places.
Some were obvious: the mages kept their money locked away in a cupboard built into the massive desk in the study, but I left that alone for now. The older mage had a smaller box in his bedroom. The lock yielded easily to my fingers, but the contents were disappointing. Only a few pieces of cheap jewelry, some letters, which I didn’t read, a feather and several dried flowers.
Surprisingly, the tall guard had a huge box in a corner of his bedroom, secured with a complex lock and screwed firmly to the floor. I couldn’t get into it, though. Not because the lock defeated me, but because he’d piled spare shields and armoured leather gear and mail and the Goddess knows what else on top of it, all haphazardly stacked. There was no possibility of opening it silently or quickly.
There was nothing else of interest to me in the Bennamorians’ rooms. Naturally, I never went near the servants’ quarters in the basement; only the wealthier inhabitants interested me.
Once I’d been all over the house, the only option left was the gardens, unusually extensive for a Holding house. This had been the home of the earliest Holders at Carrinshar, who had lived surrounded by their soldiers, the Defenders, just as now. The high walls had once sheltered an armed encampment, complete with slaughter herds and stables, brewery and bakery, armoury, smithy and barracks, all the necessities of a defensive existence. There were extensive cellars for storage, and the usual escape tunnels, in this case running into the cliff, so it was said. They were seldom needed these days, for the Port Holdings no longer conducted wars against neighbours, but every Hold still had its escape routes.
All the outbuildings were long gone, and now the house was surrounded by pleasant gardens, filled with herbs and aromatic shrubs and orchards. It was pleasant to stroll along the meandering pathways, sheltered from the chill southern wind, and imagine the beauty of the shrubbery in summer or the fruitfulness of the orchard in autumn.
Quite often my peaceful walk was disturbed by the two guards, who trained with fierce determination, chasing each other along the paths at great speed, or firing arrows at targets with focused precision. Occasionally the clash of metal betrayed their sword practice, and they would attack each other with surprising ferocity, as if they were mortal enemies. Afterwards, the helmets were hurled aside, and they clapped each other on the shoulder and laughed, the best of friends.
It was many years since I’d watched swordsmen training. I was surprised how much I remembered of the art. These two were less skilled than Defenders, of course, and they used a coarser weapon. Even so, they displayed surprising agility and speed.
“I saw you watching us training, fair lady,” the tall guard said one day as we sat down at table. “You pretended to be examining those bushes with the pink leaves, but really you were admiring my skill at arms.” He leaned close to me so that his words were barely above a whisper.
“Really, I was not.” I leaned away.
“No?”
“Admiring your skill? No. You are quick on your feet, certainly, but you favour your right side too much. You’d be helpless against a left-handed opponent.”
“And how many of those are there in the world?”
“In the world? Not so many, perhaps. But here in the Holdings, boys who favour their left arm are specially selected for the Defenders, and make up half the numbers. Defenders train in groups of four, two left-handed and two right-handed. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, Master Guard.”
His eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing more. It would be nice to think I’d silenced him permanently, but I had no such expectation.
~~~~~
I was in the garden one day, when one of the kitchen boys raced out to find me. “Quick! You’re wanted
right now, see!”
I found the mages in a fluster of excitement. A message had come from the harbour-master. A child of the household was sick, and could the mages come and see if they could do anything to help? I was almost as excited as they were. Finally, I would get to see them perform their little tricks. I was avid to find out how it worked. An incantation, I guessed, and maybe a bit of hand-waving. Dancing, even. Perhaps there would be smoke, or coloured scarves, or aromatic oils.
I went for my badge of office and recording box. When I returned to the entrance hall, the mages were dressed in flowing robes in a deep green colour. The older one carried a carved wooden staff, and the younger one had a heavy stone in one hand. Their magical accoutrements, I suppose. It was all I could do not to laugh.
Then the guards arrived, strapping on swords, with long knives attached to their belts.
“No, no, no!” I said, hands raised in alarm. “You can’t go outside like that!”
The tall guard raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Swords – knives – you can’t walk round brandishing weapons like that.”
“We don’t intend to brandish them if we can help it, but we’d be fairly useless guards without them. It’s our job to protect the mages when they go out.”
“Protect them from what?”
“From anything.”
The older mage smiled, eyebrows lifted. “I am sure our ways are odd to you, Fen, but this is how we do things. You will get used to the idea.”
I clucked my tongue at him. “It’s not a matter of getting used to it, Lord Mage. The robes – well, I suppose I may eventually get used to that. But swords – only the Defenders are allowed to walk through the Holding wearing a sword, or any kind of sharp weapon. Even the Watchers only carry a club. That’s the law.”
He shook his head sorrowfully. “And our law says that every mage must be accompanied by a guard equipped with a sword when outside the mages’ house. That is Bennamore law.”
“This is not Bennamore!”
He sighed. “Yes, it is.”
The Mages of Bennamore Page 3
