The Mages of Bennamore

by Pauline M. Ross

  He rattled on, saying nothing very much, but it was balm to my injured spirits to have such attention from him. I could not have imagined a starker contrast between the two men, Mal full of anger and abuse, Ish all concerned regard.

  I thought about what Mal had said, about the way Ish looked at me, that he cared for me. Was it true? Once I would never have questioned it, but now – now he had a wife. I’d assumed he held her in some affection, if only because of the child. Yet the pleasure in his eyes when he looked at me, the way he clung to my hand as he talked, I couldn’t deny that. How could I help responding with equal pleasure? The world shrank until there were only the two of us in it, and nothing else existed.

  I don’t know what I said to him. Not very much, he did most of the talking. Then, with a graceful wave of his hand, he left and the room was empty and cold, as if the sun had gone out.

  “Well,” Losh said, beaming at me. “Such a pleasant man, would you not agree, Fen?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, whisking Kael away for their usual afternoon nap.

  I stayed behind to deal with the correspondence. The house controller brought me a pot of brew and a dish of sugared nuts to assist my concentration. She was pleasingly efficient.

  Chewing absentmindedly, I sat and worked my way through the pile of letters that had accumulated while I had been ill. Now that the kelter fever was abating in the town, Dristomar’s worthies were ready to emerge from their hiding places and seek help from the mages. There were many appointments to arrange, notifications to send out, regretful refusals to some.

  I worked industriously for some time, trying very hard not to think about the great stash of coins and stones sitting in the lock-box in one pillar of the desk. It was so tempting. I knew I mustn’t take anything, but I toyed with the idea of putting an extra bit in there, just to drive Kael insane.

  A knock on the door, followed by the house controller.

  “So sorry to disturb you, Mistress, but there’s someone from the Hold here.”

  Ish? But no, I’d have heard him arrive. He couldn’t go anywhere without a full squad of Defenders and a whole ray’s tail of minions. But then who else? Who would call at such an uncivilised time?

  “The mages are asleep, and they won’t appreciate being disturbed.”

  “Oh no, it’s you she’s asking for.” The house controller looked embarrassed. “She says I am to tell you that her name is Tarn. She claims you’ve met before.”

  Then she pursed her lips in disapproval.

  I was puzzled but perhaps it was a servant, one with information about Hestaria. There was only one way to find out. “Please show Worker Tarn in.”

  To my astonishment, the house controller laughed. “Worker Tarn, is it? Very well, Mistress.”

  She disappeared, returning accompanied by a stout middle-aged woman with stone-grey curls framing an attractive face. She wore riding trousers, and carried a simple leather coat, too expensive an outfit for a servant. Blue eyes twinkled at me, eyes that reminded me of someone. I dredged around in my memory.

  “Erm… do come in. Please be seated.”

  She sat, tossing the coat over a chair, laughing at my obvious mystification.

  The house controller ran through the options for refreshments, all of which the visitor declined, and then withdrew.

  “Well, Fen, you are a sad disappointment to me,” my guest began, smiling broadly. “I felt sure you would remember me. But there, you must have been thirteen the last time we met. Fourteen, maybe.”

  My mouth dropped open. For a moment I was flummoxed, then realisation struck with all the force of an uncontrolled boom. I jumped up, hands to face.

  “Oh Goddess! I mean – I beg your pardon, Very Honourable Moon Dristomar. If I had known—”

  She wasn’t Holder back then, of course, but she had been part of the Dristomar contingent at Convocation that year, one of those advising Ish’s father, the Holder. Aunt Tarn. How often had Ish talked about her. The smart one, he’d called her. The one who worked tirelessly with the foreign diplomats, who travelled all over the sun-blessed lands, who built trade agreements.

  “Nonsense, nonsense! Sit down, dear.”

  “But the protocol—”

  “Stuff the protocol. I am not Holder any more, and I give you permission to call me Tarn. I am much happier being informal, I assure you. Sit, please.”

  “But—”

  “Fen,” she said gently. “You are still family, you know. Now do sit down. I get a crick in my neck looking up at you, such a great tall creature that you are now. I want to talk comfortably to you.”

  I flopped into a chair, too stunned to object. Still family… Oh, if only that were true. At least I knew why those blue eyes looked familiar, for they were very like her nephew’s.

  “I had no idea you were here. You were not at any of the moon feasts.”

  “True enough. I have been away for months, travelling here and there. I only got back two days ago, to find all sorts of odd things going on, one young woman lost and another one found. All these years we wondered, but now we find you were in Carrinshar the whole time, making your own way in life. That must have been difficult for you, dear, all alone like that. I wish now we’d looked a little harder for you. Your father checked every ship leaving Shannamar, even sent sword ships after a couple who’d sailed before you were missed, just in case. Then it was the barges heading upriver. You must have had help, I suppose, to vanish so completely?”

  Very amusing. If only I’d had anyone I trusted enough to ask for help. “No, I took the public wagon.”

  Her face was a picture of astonishment, but then it dissolved into laughter. “The public wagon? Oh, dear Goddess, what would your poor mother think? Her daughter – the Holder’s daughter – on a public wagon. And no one knew you? Of course not. Who would ever guess? And so you went to Carrinshar, as far away from Shannamar and Dristomar as you could get. A nice little Holding, Carrinshar, although terribly poor. I negotiated its alliance into Dristomar’s orbit a few years ago. If only I’d realised you were hiding away there, but you were very well concealed.”

  “Hardly. I registered under my own name, with my age and height and colouring noted, even the little birthmark on my left wrist recorded. I would not have been difficult to find, for anyone who bothered to look.”

  She raised an eyebrow at my acid tone, but said calmly, “You are quite right to be angry, dear. But at the time… Shannamar was in uproar, with your father needing to marry again in haste to produce an heir, and your mother not liking to be set aside. You can imagine. I know Luca’s boys looked for you for a long time, but they thought you were upriver, and then eventually they were needed at home. And as for here…”

  She chuckled, although I don’t imagine it was at all funny at the time.

  “Well, Zaddin was spitting fire, I can tell you. Blamed you entirely. No chance of him getting another heir, with his tastes – Ish was enough of a miracle, the Goddess knows – so poor Ish was under terrible pressure to prove himself. Zaddin was sure he could persuade Convocation to accept him. When that failed, I was the only proved option. I had to scramble round to get the allied Holders on board. Greet Bay was the only stickler, but they came round later, so when Zaddin died, the transition was quite smooth, on the whole.”

  An understated summary. I knew how unusual it was for the title of Holder to pass outside the direct line without losing half the allied Holdings, or paying extortionate bribes. Tarn was a skilled negotiator, that was obvious. But there was still a big question to answer.

  “So how is it that Ish is Holder now?”

  Her expression showed uncharacteristic bewilderment. “I am not very sure. It seemed like the right thing to do, and the Holders all agreed.”

  This was so like Mal’s description of the attitude of the Defenders he’d talked to, that I was taken aback.

  “But you were there, at Convocation! You must know why it happened, surely?”

  She sigh
ed, her forehead creased into a frown. “There was such a lot going on, Fen. It was chaotic. After that humiliating battle north of Kymar, Bennamorian squads popped up everywhere and all the Holders were gearing up for war. You can imagine the turmoil. But then their High Commander came up with his offer of a treaty, and spoke to Convocation. Such a nice young man, not at all warlike, most unexpected. He answered every question satisfactorily, and persuaded us to settle. Much better than war, we all agreed. And I think – but I am not quite sure – that it was his idea to put Ish in place as Holder.”

  “It was the Bennamorian High Commander’s idea? But why?” That made no sense at all. Why would he care? Unless… “What was his interest in Dristomar?”

  “Ah, he wanted sword ships. He had this grand scheme to sail right round Dragons’ Point and up to the western coast, opening up new trade routes. That needs big, solid ships, and Dristomar is the only deep water port capable of building them. Excellent idea, and since he paid us the money in advance, the project will go ahead. The first ships are nearly ready.”

  That still made no sense. “You don’t need sword ships for trade, and why was Ish more amenable to the idea than you?”

  Again a frown crossed her face. “I… am not sure, now that you mention it. But there was no objection to Ish taking over, none at all. He was proved by then, you see, and he had been the Designated Heir, so all it needed was a small change in the law, so that any Heir who proves later resumes all his former status.”

  That took my breath away. ‘All it needed was a small change in the law,’ she said, as if it was nothing at all. Nothing but the total overturning of generations of tradition.

  “All his former status?”

  “Oh yes. He became Designated Heir again, and since he was proved and his father was dead, acceptance as Holder was automatic. At least, I think that was how it went.” The frown again.

  “Anyway, it was not special to Ish. It applied to anyone in the same position.” She glanced at me. “I don’t suppose you…?” She must have seen my face, for she went on hastily, “Well, no matter. The High Commander proposed it – yes, I am sure it was his idea, and everyone agreed. It was all decided very quickly, no tediously drawn-out discussion.”

  “Has it occurred to you that he was a mage, this nice young man who persuaded you to toss aside generations of protocol? Maybe he used magic to make sure you all accepted his proposals?”

  “Oh, no, dear, he had no vessel. And magic is very focused, you know. I have spent a great deal of time in Bennamore, I have seen the mages at work. There is no way they could cast a spell over the entire Convocation. Besides, whatever the means, we have achieved a very useful accord with Bennamore. We pay a little more in tax, but we get the mages in return and the ship-building project will provide work for our craftspeople for years. Everything else is the same. And really, I have no objection to Ish being Holder. It leaves me free for other, more interesting, projects.”

  She smiled at me, and I couldn’t help smiling back. She was very likable, this aunt of Ish’s. Even though I barely knew her, she felt like a friend. It was so pleasant chatting to her, I had almost stopped wondering why she had come to see me.

  “Now, dear, will you run over and shut those two windows?” It was hot outside, but the air was so still the open windows brought no relief. “There, now we can be private,” she continued. “So, you have been seeing something of Ish, I hear.”

  I blushed, and then was annoyed with myself.

  She laughed. “Yes, I see. Tell me, dear, what do you know of his wife?”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Very little. Ish rarely mentions her. She’s very… exotic.”

  “A diplomatic answer.” Her eyes twinkled, reminding me strongly of Ish. “She is very different, certainly. The eastern plains are a strange place, with their odd religion and marriage customs and their men so savage. She brought a whole entourage with her, men with fierce eyes and foreign habits. They keep themselves apart. I would not presume to offer advice, dear, but be aware that she is a complicated woman, and not as sweet and docile as she appears.”

  I nodded but made no answer. It would be undignified to discuss such matters with anyone. I had barely begun to think about his wife, and what her position might be if— But it was too soon for that.

  Tarn rose to her feet, waving me to remain seated, and leaned against the edge of the desk. “I suppose I had better get to the point. We have had a message from Kingswell – from the Drashon himself, no less – that there is a delegation heading our way to investigate the disappearance of Lady Mage Hestaria, and the Holder is required to facilitate this.”

  I nodded politely. So Gret had been successful, which was not unexpected, but I wasn’t sure why she was telling me about it. “I will inform the mages,” I hazarded.

  “Oh, they will know soon enough. No, I thought we might be able to resolve the matter before this delegation arrives.” Her face screwed up as she said the word, as if there were a bad smell about it.

  “We?”

  She laughed. “You and I, dear. The question is, did the mage leave the Hold at all?”

  “Commander Kestimar told me he saw her leave,” I said carefully.

  She shook her head, curls bobbing. “And you don’t believe him any more than I do. No, I think she is still there, but given her status, she must be in the Bell Tower. That is where high value prisoners are kept, and food is reportedly taken in, the doors are locked and guarded, all very suggestive. I cannot get in to find out, however.”

  “Surely as Moon Holder, you have the authority?”

  “You would think so, but not in this case. The guards are plainsmen, loyal to Kestimar, and they refuse to let me past. Ish just tells me the matter of the mage is settled and to leave it be. And his wife smiles and says nothing at all.”

  His wife? And the tower guards were from the plains, too. “You suspect her of some involvement?”

  “I do not trust her,” she said sharply. “I am very sure she was responsible for sending me away last year, although if she imagines me less than loyal to her husband she is mistaken about that. But Ish bows to her whims, so there we are. I can do nothing directly, so subterfuge is needed. Will you help me, dear?”

  “I would be very happy to help, if it means Lady Mage Hestaria can be found, but I have no idea how I can be of use to you.”

  “Ah. So you make me work for this. Very well. May I trouble you for a glass of wine, and I will tell you a story?”

  She settled herself in a chair again. I rummaged round in cabinets until I found glasses and a decanter of wine, and poured for her. I poured for myself, too, but I took only a sip before setting the glass down again. Tarn may seem nothing more than a pleasant middle-aged woman, but she had a reputation as an astute dealer, and I needed my wits clear.

  “Once upon a time,” she began, eyes twinkling, “I was in Shannamar for Convocation. Between meetings, I had occasion to visit the library to check on some treaty or other. The treaty was stored in an ante-room, a high-ceilinged affair, with books all the way up the walls, and stairs and a balcony to reach the highest books. As it turned out, my treaty was stored on the upper level, tucked away in a dark corner. As I made my way there, what do you think I found?”

  I looked at her blankly.

  “No idea? Well, I will tell you then, dear. I found a child there, huddled in the shadows, sitting on the floor reading a book. She was eight years old, perhaps nine, a skinny child with a solemn face, quite absorbed in her text. Now, I had never seen such a young child in a library before. Indeed, I had rarely seen a child there at all, much less one quite unattended. I was instantly curious. Few children that age can read at all, and fewer still are allowed free access to the books. I asked her what she was doing there, but that was a silly question. Do you know what she answered? No? ‘Reading’, she said. ‘I am reading.’ ” She chortled with laughter.

  “So then I tried a more sensible question. ‘Are you supposed to be here, all
alone?’ I asked her. ‘Or have you perhaps escaped some assigned chore?’

  “ ‘I have escaped, but not from a chore,’ she answered. ‘I am supposed to be locked in the punishment room, but it is dark in there and I cannot read, so I came here.’

  “ ‘And how did you manage to escape?’ I asked her. ‘Did someone let you out?’

  “And do you know what she said then?” Tarn didn’t wait for me to answer, which was lucky because I had no idea what to say. “The child said to me, and these are her exact words, ‘I have an aptitude for locks.’ Do you remember, dear?”

  An aptitude for locks! Dragon’s balls, I must have been a different person then, to blurt out my secret so readily to a stranger.

  “I… not really, no. I vaguely remember meeting someone in the library one day, but I have no idea what was said.”

  “You told me that the locksmith had been oiling all the locks at the Hold, and she had shown you how they worked, do you remember?”

  A locksmith! Yes, I had a memory of her talking to me, pleased that I was showing an interest in her craft, and she had used those words – an aptitude for locks. I’d been so pleased, because I could say the same and everyone would assume it was just a matter of understanding locks and a few simple tools. So I hadn’t revealed my secret at all.

  But then my stomach lurched – where was this story leading? Why drag this up now? I had an uncomfortable feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “A nice story, is it not, dear? And I had forgotten all about it until I heard another story yesterday. My spies reported—”

  “Your spies? Oh, the idiot needle-women?”

  “Actually, they report to Ish – or his wife, I am not sure which. I have my own spies in this house, who are not so obvious, I assure you. Anyway, I heard a tale about some stolen coins and a big fuss made and all the servants interviewed, but no culprit identified. I heard also that one of the mage’s guards insisted on not pursuing the investigation any further. And when I discovered that you were in the household, and the guard was your husband… can you blame me, dear, for remembering that child at Shannamar and wondering if you still have an aptitude for locks?”