As I’d suspected, Ish chose me as his partner, and we led the way into the moon feast room. I noticed with amusement that his wife had chosen Mal, a mismatched pair if ever I’d seen one. She was all curves and flowing movement, her hands sketching elegant patterns as she talked, while he was as stiff and solid and silent as a lump of wood. I wondered what they would find to talk about. Losh was chatting easily with his partner, a stout middle-aged lady. Kael’s face bore its habitual mixture of terror and incomprehension, and his young partner seemed to be already struggling with him. She would need the grace of the Goddess to squeeze more than a couple of words out of him.
We filed in pairs into the circular moon feast room, which was dominated by the great ring table. The outer guests were already in place, standing behind their chairs, heads respectfully bowed. We flowed into the centre like a chattering river and selected our seats. Ish chose a chair facing the southern window, I sat on his right and the others took their places wherever they wished. When we were all settled, the Steward rang a bell and the outer guests sat down opposite us. There were thirty inner guests and sixty outer, and almost as many servants lining the walls.
The food was good but not spectacular, with only ten dishes. I couldn’t help comparing Shannamar, with its twenty dishes. There the moon feast room was built high in a tower, with windows on all four sides and an oculus above, the room both intimate and imposing. Dristomar’s room was larger, but could boast only three windows, huge circles of glass painted to enhance the spectacular views beyond: the setting sun through the western window, the rising moon through the eastern, and ahead of me the vastness of the southern ocean.
“I hope you will find Dristomar cuisine to your liking,” Ish said, as the first dish arrived before us.
That was a good choice of subject, very neutral. “I am sure I shall. There seems to be a greater variety than at Carrinshar.”
“Ah, yes, who would have thought there could be so many ways to serve herring? And all of them equally dull.” He turned towards me, his expression solemn but his eyes twinkling.
“Herrings and oats, nothing but herrings and oats,” I said, and his face creased into a smile at the familiar epithet. Was it my imagination, or did his eyes linger on my face before he turned away to his plate? Before the first dish was cleared, we were chatting away as if we’d never been apart. From time to time we were obliged to make stilted conversation with the town worthies on the other side of the table, but Ish soon turned back to me.
I’d forgotten how stimulating a conversationalist he was. Or maybe it was the sudden heady freedom of speaking with a Holder, instead of the stolid merchants and ship-owners I was used to. He talked affectionately about Dristomar as if it was a daughter or perhaps a favourite horse, beautiful and generous in spirit, but sometimes temperamental, requiring affectionate but firm management.
He told me of the cussedness of fish packers, the foolhardiness of sailors, the schemes of bankers, the willfulness of merchants. He talked of the beauty of the upper river, the vast bounty of the sea margins, and the sturdiness of his people. He explained the detail of the treaty with Bennamore with the insight of one directly involved. Twenty years apart evaporated, our heads bent together and I fell without thinking into my role as confidante and advisor. The sun vanished below the hills and the moon rose, vast and glorious, and I barely noticed.
There was only one difficult moment, when Ish leaned towards me and picked up my kooria from the table.
“This is not so nice as the one you used to have,” he murmured.
Instantly my composure evaporated. I felt tears prickling. So many things had been left behind when I fled Shannamar, and my jewelled feast kooria was one of them. This one was a cheap affair, decorated with gilt and paste jewels, gifted to me by a former employer to ensure my attendance at a celebration he was holding, but it was appropriate to my new rank.
Ish saw my discomfort, and set the kooria down at once, reverting easily to some neutral subject.
The final dish was the local speciality, a whole lobster, boiled and split in half, large enough to spill over the edge of the plate.
“Oh dear,” I murmured.
Ish looked at me in surprise. “But this is your favourite! And I ordered the Shannamar sauce, too.”
I smiled at the unexpected compliment, but my concern was not for myself. “The mages are not fond of shellfish.”
“Ah. Well, it cannot be helped. We always finish a moon feast with lobster, and I fear we cannot set aside two hundred years of tradition on their account.”
“Let us hope they will not make it illegal, then.” I spoke lightly, but I saw a shadow cross his face.
“Have your mages said anything of that sort? About new laws, that is.”
“No, no. I was only joking. Why, is there a problem?”
“Not so far. Bennamore has not interfered with us at all. So long as we pay the tithe from our taxes, they are quite content. We are not chafing under their yoke. Not yet.”
I took his point. Once, Bennamore’s lands had included most of the coast, and we still had the same coins and spoke much the same language, although with any number of local dialects as well. But we’d been independent for two centuries, and last year’s invasion and our abrupt capitulation was a dramatic change in our fortunes. We’d braced ourselves for all manner of unpleasant consequences, which still hadn’t happened.
“Perhaps their Drashon regrets his heir’s impulsive behaviour,” I suggested. “The invasion was very sudden, and the heir died not long afterwards, so perhaps they fell out over it.”
“Ah, no, you have that wrong. The heir is still alive – the Drashon’s daughter. It was her husband who became High Commander and brought us to war. Oh, you think the Drashon had his own war leader executed? That would have been… amusing.” His eyes twinkled with enjoyment. “Sadly, it was not so. The man died in some magely quarrel, it seems. Did you know he was a mage? He came here and sprinkled his magic dust on our poor Defenders, who promptly rolled over for him.”
I was astonished. “Magic? You believe all that nonsense?”
“Come, Fen, you work for them. You must have seen what they can do.”
“I have seen nothing that could not be achieved by trickery or the irrational optimism of desperate people.”
He eyed me in disbelief, as if I’d declared that the sea would stop beating against the shore. “Hmm. You were always sceptical about signs and miracles, I know, but some things have no rational explanation.”
I fell silent. He never used to be so credulous. Many a time we’d laughed at my mother’s odd superstitions. She’d carried a bag around her neck containing the first tooth from each of her children, to ward off evil, and every moon had its list of foods to be avoided and activities to be curtailed. It drove the servants crazy.
“They are very powerful, the Bennamore mages,” he went on. “Their magic… there are things they can do that are beyond our understanding.” He half turned in his seat so he was facing me, his lobster forgotten, his face alight with enthusiasm. “They can help us, Fen, if they choose to, in a thousand different ways. I got to know Mage Hestaria quite well, and she was very useful to me, until she absconded. I would like to get to know these new ones, too. You can facilitate that.”
My breath caught in my throat. It was too good an opportunity to miss, since he had raised the subject himself.
“It is so curious that she just disappeared without a trace, in that way. Did she give you any indication of her plans? Or of anything wrong?”
He stared at me as if my hair was on fire. “Why ever should she?”
“She attended a meeting here. It was the last time she was seen. I just wondered—”
“It is hardly our place to wonder about such matters,” he said gently. “The guards have investigated, they continue to investigate. If there is any trace of her to be found, they will find it. Do not concern yourself about her. Now eat your lobster before it is quite cold.�
�
11: Library
The carriage bore us home before the moon had set, and the streets were still crowded. Many shops took advantage of brightmoon to stay open late, and plenty of ordinary townsfolk celebrated the feast in their own more modest way. The bars and soup houses were doing good business, as always. Our progress was slow.
Fortunately, Kael was in a good mood for once, grumbling no more than usual about the food and chattering unstoppably about the beauties of the Hold and the women there. Losh smiled benevolently at us, his belly full of Ish’s well-chosen wine.
I told Mal of my failure to learn anything about Hestaria.
He grunted. “Well, it was a faint hope. But what’s that in your hand? I saw your Holder slip you something shiny.”
I couldn’t suppress a grin of pleasure, opening my fingers to show the golden disk within. “A pass for the Hold library. I shall be able to go there whenever I wish.”
Losh brightened. “Can we all go? I would dearly love to have access to a decent library.”
“I am sorry, but I am the only one permitted. I shall be able to borrow books for you, however, if you will let me know of your requirements.”
Mal exhaled noisily. “Gods, Fen, you talk all fancy now,” he said in disgusted tones. “Let me know when we’re there.” And he leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes.
There were times when I regretted allowing him to sleep in my dressing room, and this was one of them. Left to myself, I could have sat up for hours with my memories of the evening, polishing and rearranging them into perfect order. I would collect every word Ish said and run them through my mind again and again. But of course my guard husband followed me up the stairs and into my room.
I sat in front of my mirror and began disentangling the silk flowers from my hair, hoping that if I ignored him, he would go away. He didn’t, naturally. Every other night, he would give me a cheerful goodnight and disappear to his own room. Tonight, though, he leaned against the door watching me, chewing his lip.
“Shall I fetch one of the servants to help you with that?” he asked, as I struggled with my tangled hair.
“Goddess, no. They’ll all be asleep by now, and they won’t appreciate being woken when they have to be up at dawn. Then they’ll punish me by neglecting to light the fire or bring my hot water.”
“Maybe I can help, then?”
“Would you mind?” It was pleasant to have a willing helper at the end of a long evening. If only he was always so amiable.
Those platter-sized hands had surprisingly delicate fingers, patiently unwinding and loosening, and never once pulling. “I suppose you had an army of servants waiting on you at one time.”
I smiled at the memory. “Two to help me dress, three to look after my clothes, one to dress my hair, and one to supervise the others. Two stable hands for my horses. A driver and footman for my carriage. Two boys to tend the fires in my apartments and cart hot water up the stairs. A tutor and a lawyer to advise me on dealing with foreign dignitaries. And a man whose sole function was to ensure there were fresh flowers in my rooms each morning.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Not for a moment.”
“But the food – you miss that, I’ll bet.”
I gurgled with laughter. “Every single day.”
“There.” A final strand of hair fell free. “That’s the last one.”
“Thank you.” I gathered up the flowers and put them carefully into a drawer. They were expensive, and I might need them again.
Without a word, Mal reached for my necklace and unclasped it, dropping it onto the dresser, his touch as light as a butterfly’s wing on my neck. “Would you like me to unfasten your gown, too?” His hands lingered on my neck, then he softly stroked my hair.
For an instant I froze, gazing shocked at his reflection in the mirror in front of me, his face filled with warmth, hope, expectation.
He ran one finger delicately down my cheek. My skin tingled as if it was on fire, but it wouldn’t do. I couldn’t possibly let him have me whenever he wanted, or he would think he owned me. Only one man had ever owned me, heart and soul. I jumped up and spun away from him as if he’d slapped me.
All the warmth of his expression dissolved into resignation. He said not a word, crossing the room slowly to his door. There he turned and stared at me for a moment.
“I know you won’t take any notice, but don’t be too quick to trust your Holder friend.”
I struggled to catch my breath. The sheer impudence of the man knew no bounds. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that! Why would you say such a thing?”
A long silence. “Just be on your guard, that’s all.”
He turned and went into his room, shutting the door with a soft click.
~~~~~
The mages liked to take excursions from time to time. At Carrinshar that had been awkward, since the streets were too narrow and steep for their carriage, and they were disinclined to walk all the way up the hill to the inn on the edge of town where it was kept. Here the carriage barn adjoined the house, and even Kael could walk that far. Once a quarter moon they climbed in, Losh, Kael and Corsell, with the horse-master and a stable-hand driving, and disappeared for hours. Sometimes Lenya went with them, too.
They liked to find a quiet beach somewhere, and sit and watch the gulls swooping and diving, or the seals hauled out on the rocks. I supposed they’d never seen such mundane sights before, living so far inland. Kael took paper and charcoal with him, and drew pictures of what they saw. They were surprisingly good drawings, in fact, remarkably lifelike.
Mal used to disappear on his own mysterious business on these days. He never told me where he went, and I wasn’t interested enough to ask. The other two guards went off with their wives to visit the women’s relatives, returning for evening table full of local gossip.
I had my own reasons for enjoying these rest days. They were my opportunity to go to the Hold library. On my first visit, I was as excited as a child on feast day, showing my pass to the guards with trembling fingers. They greeted me by name, copied the code from the back of the disk into the visitor’s book and then opened the gate on well-oiled hinges to admit me. A Captain showed me the way to the library, partly from courtesy, but probably also to ensure I really went there, and didn’t wander off somewhere a humble recorder shouldn’t go.
The library was larger than the one at Shannamar, and more ornately decorated, with an excess of gold paint, wrought iron and carved wood. Any patches of empty wall were covered in painted scenes of seascapes and ships, horses and battles, and, bizarrely, chickens. Or perhaps they were an exotic bird of some kind, it was hard to tell.
I had never seen a room of such a peculiar shape. I guessed it had once been a courtyard between mismatched buildings, filled with drying laundry, milking goats and wood stacks. Later it had been roofed over, and the central open area was fringed with an array of odd alcoves and irregular corners. Bookshelves curved around tower walls, and narrow gaps opened into secluded ante-chambers. I rather liked its quirky charm.
As I wandered about, trying to work out how the books were arranged, a man of around sixty in a smart coat emerged from behind a high desk.
“May I be of assistance, Honourable?”
“Oh, thank you, I should like…” Then it sank in that he had called me by my old title. There was something about him that was familiar, but I struggled to place him.
He smiled broadly at me. “Do you remember me? I’m from Shannamar too.”
Instantly the image fell into place – the man, much younger, of course, with a pen behind one ear. He’d worked in the library, keeping the records of which books were borrowed and which brought back. There was no pen visible now, so I presumed he’d been promoted to a more supervisory position.
“Of course! It’s – erm, Lokker, isn’t it?”
“Lokkin, Honourable.”
“Not Honourable any more, Lokkin. Just Mistress.” I could almost
say that without my voice quavering. “But what are you doing here? You’re a long way from Shannamar.” Stupid thing to say, since I was equally far from my origins.
“I was recruited by the previous Holder… um, Mistress. The last time but one the Holders’ Convocation was held at Shannamar, I performed some slight service for her – finding a couple of books she required – and she invited me to move here, as chief librarian.” There was pride in his voice, and I could understand that. He wasn’t to know that Holders played such tricks on each other all the time – stealing employees and information and small but valuable items left lying around. She’d probably kept the books, as well.
“And you like it here?”
Was there a hesitation before he answered? “I do indeed. Not that I had any complaint about my service at Shannamar, of course. I was always treated well. But things changed after you left, Mistress, what with your father’s new wife—”
I choked. His eyes became huge and round.
“You didn’t know? Goddess, I’m so sorry!”
“No, no, it is quite all right.”
But it wasn’t such a surprise, in truth. It had been talked about even before I left, once we were sure that I wasn’t going to produce the hoped-for child. Who else, then, but my father? My poor, poor father, already past sixty, having to start all over again with a new wife. And my mother! To be set aside like an annual wife. She wouldn’t have gone quietly, that was sure.
“And so—?” I asked. Lokkin looked blankly at me. “Any children?”
“Oh! Oh, yes! Two little boys.”
So the Goddess had seen fit to bless them as she had not blessed me. It was a relief, in a way. At least there would be heirs, and if – when – my father died, there would be someone to inherit, someone in the direct line, ensuring a smooth transition. Exultation coursed through me. I hadn’t after all destroyed my home.
So many momentous events for my closest kin. Yet I knew nothing of them. The affairs of Holders elsewhere were not much talked about in Carrinshar. If my father had died, that I would have heard, since a change of Holder is momentous news everywhere, but marriages and births in a distant Holding were of no interest to most people.
The Mages of Bennamore Page 11
