The Tethered Mage

by Melissa Caruso

  Domenic might be able to find out more about the Shadow Gentry for me. As for Vaskandar …

  It was time to gird myself in corsetry and go into battle once more.

  It was late in the season for a garden party, but they were a rare enough pleasure in canal-crowded Raverra that Lady Hortensia’s town house overflowed with guests. Her gardens were considered some of the best in Raverra: a hidden enclave of green enclosed behind high brick walls, with trees and bushes and statuary all carefully placed to create dozens of little nooks and garden rooms in which one could have an intimate conversation and feel quite alone. It was the sort of party where young couples paired up and disappeared awhile behind cunningly shaped hedges, and you might want to clear your throat before rounding a corner.

  Most important, it was the party my mother’s contacts had assured me Prince Ruven was attending that afternoon.

  As I strolled the garden’s winding paths alongside Ruven, the scar on my wrist itched, reminding me that garden parties were also a fine place for an assassination. He could be hiding a dozen weapons under that long, high-collared coat of his. And as a powerful Skinwitch, he needed none at all.

  “So clever, the ways you Raverrans find to tuck pockets of green on your little stone islands.” Ruven sighed. “I wish I could stay and enjoy your wonderful city longer, but alas, I must depart shortly. I hope you will come and visit me in Vaskandar, Lady Amalia. Then you could see the true beauty of an ancient forest, with trees older than your Empire.”

  “Leaving so soon!” I tried to sound disappointed rather than relieved. “Will you be stopping in Ardence on your way back?”

  “Of course.” A Vaskandran page in Ruven’s livery showed us a tray of sweets, his offering hand marked by thick stripes of burn scar. Something about that scar pulled at my memory, but Ruven waved him away before I could identify it; the page scurried off, eyes wide. “I wish to visit the libraries one more time. Besides, I have friends there.”

  “I do hear you’ve made quite a few friends in Ardence,” I waved a hand. “The Council of Lords, the Shadow Gentry …”

  Ruven laughed. “Yes, well, it’s easy enough to make friends with Ardentines. Do them one small favor, and they put their hands on their hearts and swear to be yours for life. Such sincere, passionate people.”

  A knot tightened to thrumming in my chest. He hadn’t denied befriending the Shadow Gentry. And if half the court of Ardence was truly his for life, we had more problems than I’d realized.

  I lifted my hand in the artful gesture of a lady shielding a good piece of gossip from public view. “I do hope none of your friends were involved in the incident?”

  He raised the pale wisps of his brows. “Incident?”

  I looked around and stepped aside into a flowery nook shielded by a grape trellis. It was miraculously empty. Prince Ruven followed with the eager confidence of a man who has never had cause to fear assassins.

  “Unknown ruffians dressed as Falconers kidnapped the children of some Ardentine nobles a few days ago,” I whispered. “It’s dreadful, don’t you think?”

  For a brief moment, pure surprise flashed on Ruven’s face—and something more I couldn’t read. Then his eyes narrowed, the mage mark gleaming violet between his lids. “What nerve! In Vaskandar, no one dares pretend to the authority of the Witch Lords. They would be chained to the mountainside with their entrails exposed, for the vultures to eat them alive.”

  Such charming garden party conversation. “I assure you, the Council of Nine will not treat them gently when they’re caught.”

  Ruven stroked his chin. “These children—they were mage-marked?”

  “That’s the odd thing,” I said. “They weren’t.”

  “Ah.” Ruven’s expression cleared, as if I’d lifted some worry or confusion. “Then it was a ruse to take them for ransom, no doubt.” He shook his head. “A tactic of the weak. Disgusting. True power does not stoop to such cowardice, and is not persuaded by it.”

  “I feel the same way.” I tried to smooth a frown from my brow. Both Ruven’s surprise and his contempt seemed genuine. Either he was a very good actor or he hadn’t personally been involved in the kidnapping. And Ruven didn’t strike me as a man who bothered to practice deceit; he’d been open enough about the Shadow Gentry a moment ago.

  “Of course you do. We are kindred spirits, you and I.” He lifted a hand toward my face.

  I turned away as if I hadn’t seen it, plucking a twig of grapes from the trellis. I popped one in my mouth to buy time, the sweet juice flooding my tongue. Did I dare press him further?

  This was my one chance to figure out what he was up to. I couldn’t shy away now.

  “It’s such a shame,” I sighed.

  “What is?” He flexed the hand I’d avoided, as if testing a new glove.

  “I’ve heard you came to the Serene City seeking a bride.” I rolled another grape between my fingers. “But in that case I don’t understand why Vaskandar would send troops to the Empire’s border. Is it marriage you want, or war?”

  “Ah.” He chuckled. It was a hard sound, like spilled nails. “No, of course we don’t want war. Not now.”

  I laughed, not sure what else to do. That now was not entirely reassuring.

  “No, no.” A smile curled his lips, as if my misconception were the most delightful thing he’d heard all day. “We aren’t fools. The Witch Lords are mighty in our own lands, yes, but Vaskandar cannot project its greatest power beyond our borders at the moment. We have fought the Empire in the past, and no doubt we will again; but that time is not now.”

  “Oh, good.” I swallowed my grape whole, out of sheer nerves. It made a painful path down my throat.

  “Indeed, we have much to learn from you. I have great respect and admiration for Raverran power.” Ruven tilted his head, questioning permission, and reached out for one of my grapes. Without thinking, I offered him the bunch I held.

  His fingertips brushed mine. A shock flashed through my skin, up my arm, and into my chest, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. My lungs simply stopped, halfway through an inhalation.

  Ruven smiled insolently. “Vaskandran power is, as you can see, very different.”

  I recoiled back a step, panic pulling at my frozen lungs. Instantly, I could breathe again.

  My pulse drove at me, wild and furious, urging me to flee or strike or scream for help. But no. If I acknowledged him as a threat, he won. I understood that much.

  I drew my dagger. “Give me one good reason,” I said coldly, “I shouldn’t have you killed.”

  “Oh, that was just a little joke! See? You’re fine.” He spread his hands, laughing. “No one was hurt. A small jest; it is the Vaskandran way.”

  I glared. “Your jest lacks humor.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps.” His face sobered. “But now you know,” he said, “I truly do not want war.”

  “How do I know that, exactly?”

  “Because I could have killed you.” He held out his hand, palm up, as if waiting to catch rain. “Because I still could kill you with a touch, anytime. That would start a war, for certain, would it not?”

  I nodded, reluctantly. The Council of Nine had the power to declare war, and my mother held most of the Council under her sway.

  “But I did not.” Ruven smiled brilliantly, like a child sure of praise from his teacher. “You are alive. Thus, you know my desire for peace is genuine.” His expression changed, and his extended hand reached in invitation. “As is my desire to court a lady with such noble heritage, and such magnificent political and magical prospects as yourself.”

  I drove my dagger home in its sheath, but my face felt no less hard than its steel. “You have much to learn,” I said, “about courting Raverrans.”

  I turned on my heel without another word and left him there.

  I didn’t start trembling until I was safely in my boat.

  Chapter Twelve

  My thoughts ran crowded and chaotic as the traffic on the Imperial C
anal as my oarsman guided me homeward from the garden party. Dusk was starting to fall over the Serene City, and his oar broke and scattered the reflections of kindling luminaries and bow lanterns into thousands of points of light. People called to each other, from boat to boat, and the strains of music drifted down from a palace window above the canal.

  I could now almost draw a line through the points on my map of the trouble in Ardence: Prince Ruven’s visit, and his possible connection to the Shadow Gentry; Duke Astor’s defiance under the Shadow Gentry’s influence; the illicit use of the imperial seal in the abduction of the children. Almost, but not quite. I was still missing some crucial connection.

  We glided beneath the golden lights of the Ardentine Embassy, and I spied a familiar figure on a balcony, leaning pensively on the rail and gazing out over the water: Domenic, his springy mane and broad shoulders unmistakable against the glow of lamplight behind him.

  “Pull up to the next quay,” I directed my oarsman as I waved vigorously to Domenic. “I’m paying a visit.”

  An embassy servant conducted me to the balcony, where Domenic waved me over with a grin, hoisting a half-empty wine bottle in invitation. “Amalia! Come stand with me. I can see all the aristocrats’ bald spots from here. It’s lovely.”

  I stepped up beside him. “Just don’t drip ink on them.”

  “Once! Once, I did that, and only to Professor Clopis, because he’d been so unfair to Venasha about the classes she missed due to morning sickness.” He sighed. “But you have to admit, my aim was impeccable. Smack in the middle of his pink crown.”

  “It took weeks for the splotch to fade,” I recalled. “Did you use alchemical permanent ink?”

  “Of course. Only the best for Venasha.” He poured me some wine, and we clinked our glasses together.

  “What brings you to the embassy?” I asked.

  “The courier lamps again,” he sighed. “I told my brother what you said, that the Falconers who seized the children were impostors, despite the imperial seal.”

  “And?” The glum look on his face wasn’t reassuring. “Was he convinced?”

  “He said it didn’t matter. The wave of outrage has lifted the Shadow Gentry to new prominence in court, and they’re rushing forward on the crest of it.”

  I took a breath. “Domenic, the Shadow Gentry may have ties to Vaskandar. Prince Ruven seems to count them among his friends.”

  “I have no doubt of it.” Domenic shook his head, refilling his wineglass with a certain resolution. “Gabril was thick with Ruven while he was in town. My understanding is that’s how the Shadow Gentry think Ardence can separate from the Empire—they think Vaskandar will support them as a free city-state.”

  “Swallow and digest them, more likely.”

  “Yes, well, you and I know that. But they apparently all think Prince Ruven is a fine fellow with their best interests at heart, because he’s made a few loans and done a few favors.”

  “Your brother would do well to distance himself from the Shadow Gentry.” I tried to keep my voice light and gentle, but my fingers tightened on my wineglass. “If they’re advocating leaving the Empire and backed by Vaskandar, well, it’s hard to see that as anything but treason.”

  “Distance himself? Not bloody likely, alas. He wears his gray mask with pride. But maybe we can find some way to temper them back to a healthier degree of dissent.”

  “Are you still thinking of joining them yourself?”

  “Someone has to stand up to the Empire occasionally, to keep it from falling into tyranny. The Shadow Gentry could take that role.” He downed a swallow of wine. “But threatening to leave the Empire and turning to Vaskandar for help is a stupid way to go about it.”

  “Stupid is one word for it.”

  Domenic gazed out over the canal. “Maybe I should head back to Ardence. To try to talk Gabril out of making a huge mistake. I’m not ready to leave Raverra yet, though. I haven’t even had honeyfruit trifle.”

  “Come over to our palace, and our chef will make you some. Honeyfruit’s out of season, but there are a few vivomancers growing it, and I think we have some.” I nudged his elbow with mine on the balcony railing. “Don’t go yet. I’d miss you.”

  “Oh, I’ll stay a bit longer. Though Lady Savony is returning to Ardence already, along with some of the diplomats. I gather Lady Terringer has incensed as many members of the court as she’s cowed. My cousin will need Savony to help smooth feathers. He’d never admit it, but he’s lost without her.” He shook his head. “What few accomplishments he’s claimed credit for as duke so far have all been hers.”

  “I hope she succeeds,” I said. “The idea of us winding up on different sides of a … of a conflict makes me ill.”

  Domenic laughed. “You and I? We’ll never be on different sides, Amalia. If we can’t find a side we both like to stand on, we’ll make our own.”

  I wished I shared Domenic’s confidence. But my feet fell heavy on the carpeted embassy staircase as I descended toward the canal-side door and my waiting boat. It was difficult to imagine a way for our friendship to survive if I had to unleash Zaira to burn his home.

  As I stepped down into the embassy’s foyer, hurried footfalls rang on the mosaic-inlaid floors. Baron Leodra crossed to the quayside door ahead of me, a footman conducting him to his boat. By the scowl on his face, whatever business brought him here had not gone well.

  I hesitated, watching the embassy door close on his brocaded back. He’d stopped pushing for more aggressive imperial control of Ardence since my mother threatened to expose his bastard at the ball, but he still seemed an unlikely choice to conduct diplomacy with Ardence at this point. What brought him here?

  Lady Colanthe Savony entered the foyer from the same gilt-framed doorway Leodra had, her spectacles catching the lamplight as they dangled from their chain on her chest. She met my gaze and nodded, as if she’d hoped to find me here.

  “Lady Amalia. Might I have a word?”

  “Certainly.” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice. I hadn’t forgotten that Marcello had spied her watching me at the ball, but I still had no idea what the duke of Ardence’s steward might want with me.

  She gestured me aside to a corner, beside a potted plant, and waited until a scurrying aide passed through the foyer before speaking.

  “Are you aware of the latest development in relations between our cities?” she asked.

  My heart dropped at the severity of her tone. “Not if it occurred within the past few hours, no. Has there been some change?”

  “Duke Astor has rejected the doge’s assurances that Raverra had nothing to do with the abduction of Ardence’s heirs, and refuses to cooperate with the Empire in any way or even receive the Serene Envoy at the River Palace until the children are returned.”

  “But we truly don’t have them!”

  “I know that. His Grace likely even knows that.” Lady Savony shook her head. “It’s a matter of principle, to show his nobles he’s taking a stand.”

  “That’s folly.” The words burst out of me before I could choose more diplomatic ones. “To refuse to receive the Serene Envoy is another violation of the Serene Accords, and an insult the doge can’t ignore.”

  “There’s a reason I’m returning to Ardence posthaste,” Lady Savony said dryly.

  “Is there anything you can do?” I implored her.

  “Perhaps. I am hoping, Lady Amalia, that you may also be able to accomplish something for Ardence.” She regarded me closely. I wasn’t used to having to look up at women; my Callamornish father had left me a height advantage few Raverrans of my gender seemed to surpass, but Lady Savony had an inch or two on me. “For years, your family has been a true friend to our city. What is your stance, if I may ask, on the current tensions between us?”

  “I find them most distressing,” I said immediately. “I am eager to return to cordial relations between Ardence and Raverra as soon as possible.”

  Lady Savony fingered the chain of her specta
cles. “You must understand, I am absolutely dedicated to the welfare of Ardence.”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course? I wish it were a given, my lady. Few among the leaders of our city put the good of Ardence before their own, as my family has always done.” She replaced the spectacles on her nose. The eyes that met mine through them were sharp as a hunting bird’s. “If more of them did, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. Do you know the true root cause of the difficulties in Ardence?”

  I hesitated, then shook my head. I might have my own opinions, but I’d rather hear what she had to say.

  “Three years ago, Mount Enthalus in the Witchwall Mountains erupted. Hardly anyone in Raverra noticed.” She stared off through the embassy wall, as if she could see across space and time to watch it happen. “But the eruption choked the River Arden with rock and ash, reshaping it. New lakes and rapids formed. Some stretches of the river split, or grew shallower. It is no longer the perfect channel for trade between Vaskandar and the Raverran Empire.”

  “Ah.” I began to see where she was going. “And Ardence depends on that trade.”

  “Our city was built on that trade, and thrived on it for hundreds of years. Now it is suddenly diminished, since larger ships can no longer navigate the river near the border. Ardence faces a very real danger of poverty and ruin.” The skin around her eyes tightened, as if the admission pained her. “But the nobility of Ardence seems determined to spend as lavishly as ever, including our current duke. They are making matters exponentially worse with their excesses, and are making no plans to address the problem. When I bring up the issue to His Grace or the Council of Lords, I am laughed at.”

  Knowing the city teetered on the brink of bankruptcy helped everything else make much more sense: Ardence’s willingness to take help from Vaskandar, the duke’s desperate ploy in taxing Raverran merchants, and even the rise of the Shadow Gentry. “So that’s why the nobles pressured the duke to levy taxes on Raverran merchants and break the Serene Accords? To bring in more money?”