by M. J. Scott
It should be simple enough.
The offer to return home should have been irresistible.
That was clearly what the delegation had been expecting. For them to leap at the chance to return. Or be stupid enough to do so without stronger reassurances from Eloisa.
But lacking those reassurances, the decision was far from simple. Indeed, the sensible position, a position that would have been unthinkable a few short weeks earlier, would be to remain in Illvya. After all, alive was better than dead. And if Sevan Allowood had dared to call Sophie a traitor to her face, there were clearly those in the court who wished his wife to be the latter. Probably him, too.
But remaining in Illvya wasn’t a guarantee of safety either. Aristides would decide if Sophie—or Cameron himself—were of any use to him. If they were, then no doubt he would set about ensuring that he obtained whatever benefits they represented. It didn’t necessarily follow that he and Sophie would also benefit from the process.
Damned if they did and damned if they didn’t, perhaps.
Which left the thorny issue of determining which form of damnation to embrace.
What he wouldn’t give for five minutes alone with James.
Surely Jeanne’s brother would give him the courtesy of the truth?
He pushed the thought aside for what had to be the twentieth time that day. He couldn’t get to James, no matter how much he wished he could.
It went without saying that he couldn’t simply present himself at the imperial palace and demand to speak to him. And the kind of magic that dealt in secret messages and illusions of the kind that might allow Cameron to get some sort of note to James was strictly the domain of those who practiced the Arts of Air. Cameron had no talent for illusion, and though there were plenty of illusioners at the Academe, there were none he knew even part of the way toward the level of trust required before he would involve them in something that might just put him and James in danger.
Which left him with nothing to do but watch other people work off steam. Which did nothing to improve his temper. He glanced at the clock hung on the opposite wall. Nearly time for this, the final lesson of the day, to end. Hopefully when he returned to their chambers, Sophie would be recovered from the reveilé. He hadn’t wanted to leave her there alone but she had insisted.
He shifted again on the bench and looked toward the door. Perhaps Venable Marignon would not mind if he left a little early. But before he could act on the thought, the door swung inwards and Colonel Perrine and Imogene du Laq entered.
Most of the students came to sudden stumbling halts, pausing to stare at the vision of the black-clad colonel and the duquesse, who also wore a high-collared black dress and jacket. The clothes, far more decorous in design than the dress she had worn at the ball, were no less striking. Her collar bore two gold suns. Emeralds the size of his thumbnail graced her ears, sparkling as she turned her head to survey the room.
Venable Marignon, who had been assisting one of the younger students with some sword work, looked up, face annoyed, obviously ready to order them all back to work when she spotted the visitors.
Her expression didn’t exactly alter, but the focus of her irritation clearly shifted from the students to the pair from the palace. She straightened and strode across the room. The bow she offered Imogene was shallow. And brief.
“Colonel. Your Grace. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“We were looking for Lord Scardale,” Colonel Perrine said. “We were told we would find him here.”
Venable Marignon’s mouth pursed. Then she tilted her head toward Cameron. “Over there. He is not training today thanks to the goings-on at the palace of yours.”
Colonel Perrine inclined his head. “The palace is very grateful to Lord Scardale for his assistance.”
“Hmmph. If that’s true, then perhaps you could show that gratitude by letting me get on with my class.”
“Of course, Verite, dear,” Imogene said in an overly sweet voice. “We did not mean to intrude.”
If they hadn’t intended to intrude they could have sent for him. He had no idea if it were common for members of the Imperial Guard to visit the Academe. Presumably a number of them had trained here. But once sworn to the emperor, he knew from his lessons that they owed their allegiance to Aristides only. Judging by the various degrees of hero worship and awe on display on the students’ faces, many of them hoped one day to also make that oath.
Venable Marignon turned from Imogene and snapped, “Back to your drills,” to the class before returning to the center of the room. The students sprang back to their positions. Apparently fear of Venable Marignon’s famous temper outweighed the novelty of visitors. Even imperial guards.
Imogene nudged the colonel’s arm and the pair of them headed toward Cameron. He rose as they reached him, intending to bow, but Venable du Laq waved him off.
“Please, Lord Scardale, we can leave such things for the ballroom,” Imogene said.
Which didn’t stop Colonel Perrine from performing a shallow bow as he offered the envelope he held to Cameron.
“From my Imperial Master,” he said.
That much Cameron had already gathered. He doubted anyone else was sending two members of the Imperial Guard to his doorstep.
He took the envelope. Between the thick paper and the black and gold wax seal, it was heavier than it looked. His thumb traced the rose-twined tower that graced the seal. An innocuous emblem for a not-so-innocuous man. “Am I going to like what this contains?”
Colonel Perrine shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know what it contains.”
“But if you had to wager?”
“Imperial guards don’t wager, my lord.”
Cameron turned to Imogene. “What about imperial mages?”
“I am a fair hand at cards,” she said. “But I don’t think this requires a wager. I imagine it contains an invitation to speak to the emperor again.”
“An invitation or a command?”
“There isn’t a large degree of difference when it comes to the emperor,” Imogene said.
He hadn’t thought so. The envelope suddenly felt heavier than before. “Am I supposed to open this now?”
“My orders are to wait for your response,” Colonel Perrine said.
“Isn’t that a little superfluous?” Cameron asked. “If I’m unlikely to say no?”
The colonel’s mouth twisted in appreciation of the point but he merely shook his head. “I have my orders, Lord Scardale.”
“Cameron,” Cameron said automatically. He thought he might get along well with Colonel Perrine if they ever got to deal with each other on an unofficial basis. He was the kind of military man that Cameron was used to.
“Not while I’m on duty, my lord.”
Ah. He should have known. In the colonel’s place, Cameron would have responded the same way. “I’d prefer to discuss this with Sophie before I respond.”
“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Imogene said. “We have also sent for your wife.”
“She’s in our chambers.”
“Apparently not,” Imogene said. “But someone has been sent to find her.”
What did they mean Sophie wasn’t in their chambers? She was supposed to be sleeping off the goddess-damned reveilé. His jaw clenched and he relaxed it with an effort. As far as the venable and Colonel Perrine knew, there was no reason for him to be worried about Sophie’s whereabouts.
“I’d also prefer not to discuss whatever there is to be discussed in front of an audience.” He gestured toward the class. Just in time for the end of class chimes to sound. The thuds and grunts of the practice session turned to chatter and laughter as the students broke off their matches and began gathering up their gear.
Venable Marignon was particular about the state of the training rooms, but she had her pupils well trained and about three minutes after the chimes had sounded, the room was empty of students. Verite hesitated by the door, looking at him with a quizzical expression, as
though offering to stay if he wished.
Tempting, but he didn’t think Colonel Perrine or Imogene meant him any harm. For one thing, if they wanted to kill him, it would be far easier within the walls of the palace than here. Well, it might be just as easy to kill him here, but it would be far more difficult to explain the act to Henri and the rest of the venables. And for another thing, he wanted to know if they’d managed to learn anything from the attacker they’d taken into custody the night before.
He shook his head slightly at Verite and she hitched a shoulder in acceptance, then closed the door behind her. Almost immediately it opened again and Sophie walked in, Willem trailing behind her. Tok shot through the gap between door and lintel, circling the room to caw at Cameron before winging back to Sophie to land on her shoulder.
Imogene’s dark brows lifted. “I didn’t know you had a familiar, Lady Scardale.”
“I don’t. This one is just nosy,” Sophie said, but she made no motion to dislodge the bird. Willem, on the other hand, she sent on his way with a smile of thanks and a firm assertion that he needed to get to dinner on time.
The boy looked reluctant but left. Cameron wondered if he’d had time to send word to the harbor yet. Or go himself. He hadn’t thought about how Willem might go about obtaining the information he’d asked for. He didn’t want the boy to put himself at risk. He should warn him to be careful.
Sophie joined Cameron, sending him a questioning look before turning her attention to Imogene and the colonel. Her curtsy was quick but deep enough to be polite. “Your Grace, Colonel.” She paused for a moment, studying Imogene, and he wondered what she was looking at.
Cameron passed the envelope to her. “Apparently His Imperial Majesty has done us the honor of requesting our presence again.”
“Interesting that you know that already with the seal unbroken,” Sophie murmured.
“Call it an educated guess,” Cameron said.
“Let us see,” Sophie said. She didn’t have a dagger or one of the small silver knives ladies often used to open seals, but she managed well enough with a fingernail. Her expression, as she scanned the piece of paper she drew out, didn’t alter. “Tomorrow night,” she said. “Well, that will make Madame Designy happy. I doubt she’d appreciate it if I wore one of her creations to court two days in a row.”
“Helene? I wondered if your gown was her work. Is she making you others?” Imogene said.
“Yes. I shall have to let her know we have an accelerated schedule.”
Cameron had no idea why they were discussing evening gowns when there were bigger issues to deal with. “May I see that?”
He scanned the elegantly written script, but it offered no additional clues as to why the emperor wanted to see them again. Simply stated a place and time for them to appear.
“Any ideas as to what he wants?” he asked Colonel Perrine.
“I believe there is to be a continuation of discussions between yourselves and your compatriots,” the colonel said, looking thoughtful.
“Why the delay?”
“I believe the emperor wanted to give your chief ambassador a little more time to recover from the shock of last night,” Imogene said.
Time to recover his temper more likely. The barron was not a man to take insults to his dignity—or his safety—lightly. He’d be looking for someone to blame for the attack. Which wasn’t likely to improve the attitudes of the delegates toward Cameron and Sophie. After all, they were safer targets for his wrath than the emperor.
“Very well.” He looked down at Sophie, who seemed resigned as much as anything. She knew as well as he did that they couldn’t refuse the request. “Then you may tell your master that we will be delighted to accept his gracious invitation.”
Colonel Perrine dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“Did you learn anything from the prisoner?” Cameron asked. Perhaps the colonel might not be able to answer him, but it would be foolish not to ask.
“Not much. He was paid. But whoever did so set it up well. He didn’t know who it was. He received his instructions and his down payment via written messages brought by common couriers.”
“What about the sanctii he used?” Sophie asked.
“He had been given a scriptii to call it.”
Cameron frowned. He hadn’t considered that possibility. “Can you trace the mage who made it?”
The colonel shook his head. “Perhaps. If we had it. But we didn’t find it on him. The sanctii may have taken it. Or it may have been spelled to destroy itself when used.”
“But Martius and Ikarus took the sanctii away with them.”
“Yes. They overpowered it. They returned it to their realm. But no one can compel a sanctii to reappear here other than the mage who bound it. And our sanctii cannot compel it to answer them either. We do not know much of how their society works, but we do know that.”
“So you would need the mage who controls it. And if you have him—or her—then you probably don’t need the sanctii.”
“Exactly,” Imogene said. “And the sanctii was just following orders, presumably, so under our laws it has done no wrong. The normal punishment for a water mage who broke the laws would be to have the bond dissolved before any other punishments are meted out. The sanctii returns to their realm and the mage faces the consequences of their actions. I believe the Academe keeps track of the names of sanctii who have been associated with mages who have proven troublesome in the past.”
“Why are their names important?” Cameron asked.
Imogene shrugged. “Some mages would think it safer, not to try to call such a one when they are attempting to form a bond.”
“Some?” Sophie said.
“Others think that having a sanctii who has been bound previously is useful. Like having a trained soldier rather than a raw recruit. Of course, a trained soldier usually knows some of the loopholes in the rules. And a sanctii whose bond has been sundered knows full well that that is possible. But depending on the skills of the previous mage and what they worked on, there are those who would still take the chance. Sanctii live longer than we do. Why waste all that experience?”
“I didn’t know that,” Sophie said.
Neither had he. But it made sense. Unkillable demons probably did live a long time. And that wouldn’t have been something that Anglion would be keen for its citizens to know about.
“So essentially you found nothing?” He tried not to let the frustration he felt seep into his voice but wasn’t entirely successful
“We are still investigating,” Colonel Perrine said, posture stiffening. “But no, so far, we have no answers for you or the barron.”
“And the other sanctii? The one who helped Ikarus and Martius?”
Imogene shook her head. “Of that one there has been no sign. And Ikarus will not say more than he does not know why she was there.”
“She?”
“Apparently she was female,” Imogene said. “Which makes her somewhat rare. As I said, we don’t know much about sanctii, but we do know there are more males than females. Or more males that answer to bonding than females. There is only one female bonded in all of Illvya itself that I am aware of. A handful or so more in the rest of the empire. Not that I know all the sanctii in the empire.” She touched one of the emeralds hanging from her ear. “I am coming around to the theory that the reason she was there, Lady Scardale, was because of you.”
* * *
Her? Sophie’s heart thumped as she stared at Imogene in astonishment. “What would a sanctii want with me?”
“I do not know,” Imogene said. “But we found no traces of the types of magic that might call a sanctii to the ballroom. No scriptii. No charms. I looked. So did some of my other colleagues in the imperial mages. Ikarus looked, too. He knows nothing. He says he didn’t recognize her. Martius also claims ignorance. But something attracted the creature.”
“But it was Cameron who the sanctii helped. It didn’t even come anywhere near me,” Sophie p
rotested.
“As your main point of concern was, I imagine, right at that moment, your husband’s well-being, I don’t think that is an excluding factor. A sanctii usually acts on the wishes of the mage it is bound to.”
“But I’m not bound to any sanctii,” Sophie said. “Why would it do my bidding? How would it even know what my bidding was?”
“Why does that raven sit on your shoulder?” Imogene said. “Because it is attracted to your power. I can see you tell the truth that you are not bonded to it, but the potential is there. I can see the beginnings of a bond. All you would need to do would be to choose to complete it. Then it would be as solid as the link between you and Cameron.” She nodded at the space between them and Sophie realized that Imogen could probably see the bond they shared. As she herself had seen the link between Belarus and Madame Simsa.
She couldn’t see her bond with Cameron though. She hadn’t asked Madame Simsa about that. About whether she could see her own magic. She hadn’t so far, but then again, it was difficult to look at oneself from a distance without a mirror. And she hadn’t encountered such a thing on her walk through the halls from the garden to the change rooms. She might not have noticed one even if she had, so distracted had she been by the suddenly changed world she walked through. One in which she could see glowing light around every other person who walked by.
She’d met Lia in one of the hallways on her way back from Madame Simsa’s chambers. She’d found the light glowing around the other girl so distracting that all her answers to Lia’s questions had been vague and possibly nonsensical. She was fairly certain that Lia thought she’d lost her wits and had been grateful when Willem had interrupted them.
And even now the light shining around Imogene and Cameron was distracting.
“But I don’t know anything about water magic,” she protested. “What would a sanctii want with me?”
“Not knowing is not the same as not having an aptitude,” Imogene said. “Perhaps in Anglion you were merely an earth witch . . . .” She frowned, peering at the gap between Sophie and Cameron again. “Or maybe not just merely one, if I am reading that bond correctly, but given what I know of your country, I doubt anyone explained that to you. But we don’t have time to go into that just now.”
