Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms)

by Pope, Christine

  “New advisor?” I ventured. This was the first I had heard of any such a thing. Although I had not been part of the court at Tarenmar for very long, I hadn’t seen much evidence of the Mark requiring an councilor, unless one counted the household advice Althan was wont to dispense.

  The stranger smiled as well, but I found no comfort in his expression. No warmth touched his eyes, and the way he looked at me made me feel unclothed, although I was dressed warmly and modestly, and my new gown did not display much at the neckline.

  “Yes, I thought it time I had some assistance.” Kadar’s smile did not wane, but something in the taut look of his mouth told me he was less than sure of my reaction. “My dear, meet Maldis of Purth.”

  Chapter 10

  It took every ounce of strength I possessed not to recoil, not to gasp aloud at the man’s name. Somehow in my mind, when Ulias had spoken of the dark mage Maldis, I had envisioned some black-robed sorcerer, a dark-visaged conjurer straight out of legend. I had not expected such a commonplace evil as that which confronted me now.

  I do not think I will much like the advice you give my husband, I thought then, even as I forced my mouth to curl into what I hoped was a natural-appearing smile. And though I wanted nothing more than to turn and run, to remove myself from the sickening gaze of those light blue eyes, I managed to extend a hand, to keep myself from gagging as he murmured something wordlessly polite and touched his fingers to mine.

  In that moment I felt it, as if something cold and dank had crawled up from the sewers and wrapped itself around my flesh. Again my throat tightened in disgust, even as my mouth somehow managed to keep smiling.

  And I realized something then, once I dropped my hand after the requisite number of seconds had passed. His own expression did not alter, although I wished I could tell him to stop looking at me, to direct that pale, loathsome stare elsewhere.

  I had felt his power.

  But he had not felt mine.

  How this was so, I could not say. My father had once mentioned my sensitivity to magic, how I always knew when he cast a spell, and what kind of spell it was, and he wondered if that had something to do with my particular gift, although he had never heard tell of such a thing. So much knowledge had been lost, though, so many details as to how magic worked in general and how it worked on us in particular, that we had no way of knowing if my talent was once widespread, or whether it was something peculiar to me and me alone.

  Luckily Kadar spoke then, apparently noticing nothing. “I think you will find observing the Hall of Grievances valuable, Maldis. It is one of the best ways to see what is happening in my kingdom, to see what is of importance to my subjects. I have had a chair brought for you.”

  He indicated a large carved seat that had been placed to the left and slightly behind his own. Not a throne, no — it appeared my own position had not been usurped. Not completely, anyway.

  Not yet.

  I let Kadar take me by the hand and lead me to my own throne-like chair so I could sit down. He settled himself next to me in his own seat. It was only after he did so that Maldis sat as well. So careful, so obsequious, so correct. But I knew this, as with anything else he did, was only an empty gesture. He knew the time was not right to make his move. For now he would play the courtier, the humble advisor. What his precise credentials were for such a position, I had no idea. Not that it really mattered. I guessed that he would have manufactured whatever references, whatever background he required to insinuate himself into my husband’s confidences.

  The chill of the night before seemed to find its way up my spine once more, spreading through me until I could barely feel my own fingers as they rested on the carved arms of my chair. I tried to tell myself that was foolish, that nothing could go awry here in the heart of the castle, with my husband next to me and the steady, gracious Althan standing only a few yards away, not as the onlookers and petitioners began to file into the room. But somehow I knew the cold flooding my body had little to do with what I saw here and now, and a great deal more with what was to come when I least expected it.

  The cowardly part of me wished then that I had accepted Lord Senric’s offer, had let him take me away from this place. At least if I had done so, I would not have had to face the cold malice that seemed to radiate outward from this Maldis of Purth. How Kadar could not feel it, could not see the casual evil in the man’s face, I had no idea.

  But he was not the only one oblivious to the malignant presence in the chamber; the common folk seated on the benches cast a few curious glances in Maldis’ direction, but then almost seemed to shrug, as if to say, Well, it is by our lord’s desire that the man is here, so surely he must serve some purpose.

  That he did, but a purpose of his own, I guessed, and none of Kadar’s…although he most likely had made sure that Kadar thought it was his purpose as well.

  Then I had no time for further speculation, for Althan stepped forward and said the simple ritual words: “The Hall of Grievances is free to its petitioners.”

  The first complainant approached the dais and bowed. His objection seemed simple enough — he owned an inn near the heart of Tarenmar, and the property was located on the site that had been chosen for Kadar’s pet project, the central exchange where goods and commodities could be traded.

  “It is not that I can complain about losing my inn,” the man said. He was probably in his fifties, but still broad and strongly built, looking more like a man who worked the land than one who spent his days behind a bar. “I was offered compensation, and, truth be told, the building needed repairs. When I was first told of this, I thought it no great thing to start over again elsewhere. But now the representative from your lordship’s treasury has come to me and said that he can give me but half of what was promised, for times are lean and the money not there.” He hesitated for a second or two, and added, “I told him I did not believe this was so, that an Arkalis would not seek to cheat his subjects in such a way. I thought if I came here and presented my case, you would understand that I cannot rebuild with the sum I am now offered.”

  Throughout this speech Kadar had listened with eyes narrowed, chin on one hand. I had seen him assume that position before, usually when thinking over some difficult conundrum. He straightened, and appeared about to speak, but then Maldis leaned forward and whispered something in his ear — what, I could not tell, for the words were hurried and muted.

  Their effect on the Mark was clear enough, however; he gave a grim little nod, then addressed the petitioner. “We understand your concerns, but we must all make sacrifices during times such as these. Perhaps you will not be able to build a larger, better inn, but you will still have something to show for your efforts.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing. Impetuous Kadar might be — and ruthless, and uncaring at times — but I did know that he cared greatly for his subjects, took very seriously the role of the Mark as protector and champion. The careless remark had its origins in Maldis’ prompting, I had no doubt. I was not so naïve that I couldn’t see why the man might want Kadar to keep a tighter hold on his purse strings than he had in the past.

  Without stopping to consider the repercussions of interference, I cleared my throat and said quickly, “My lord, a word — ”

  Kadar shifted in his seat, dark brows lowering over the golden eyes. I rarely spoke during the Hall of Grievances, as his and my opinions generally ran along the same lines. Behind him, Maldis straightened, staring over Kadar’s shoulder at me. His expression was mild, but again a ripple of cold passed over me as that pale stare met mine.

  Do not think of him, I told myself. Look only at Kadar.

  And so I did, holding his gaze even as I lowered my voice and asked, “Do you think it wise to hand down such a decision when all it will do is tell your subjects that the word of their Mark is not to be trusted?”

  His mouth tightened. “The treasury — ”

  “The treasury should be able to bear this expense, or the original sum would nev
er have been promised. I think it more likely that the official in question thought of this as a way to line his own pockets, by keeping the difference between the original sum and what he planned to hand over to the innkeeper.”

  A silence, as Kadar appeared to think over what I had just said. I knew I might be over-reaching, accusing someone who could very well be innocent of what I had suggested, but I somehow doubted it. Over the years I had seen my mother and father have to manage the petty avarice of local officials, and I did not think the character of such men would be so very different here in the North than it was in my homeland.

  After a heavy pause, Kadar turned from me and back to the innkeep, who had stood there waiting in obvious trepidation during our exchange. The Mark forced a smile and said, a little too heartily, “It seems my lady is willing to forgo a gown or two in order to ensure that you receive what has been promised you. Althan will make sure you do not leave here today without those funds.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” The man bowed to Kadar, but I noticed his gaze was fixed on me, his dark eyes shining with gratitude. “I knew it must be some sort of misunderstanding.”

  And he was led off by Althan, who wrote down something on the sheaf of paper he always carried with him at these times, and gave it to the man. No doubt it was a direction to the treasurer’s office.

  The next complainant stepped forward, and luckily the case was simple enough — only a dispute as to who had first right to a prime spot in the marketplace. This time Maldis said nothing, but only looked on with heavy-lidded eyes. Kadar decided the case as I would have, giving precedence to the farmer who had the longest claim to the location, and I let out a little sigh of relief. At least not every grievance would involve a battle of wills between the Mark and myself.

  So the rest of the afternoon proved, although every time a new petitioner stepped forward I found myself stiffening, worried that this time Maldis would again proffer some unpalatable advice and that I would once again have to take up arms for the downtrodden. But he remained quiescent, watching only, until at last the hall was emptied and Kadar rose from his seat. I stood as well, glad to be out of the uncomfortable chair, whose carving was quite grand but whose upholstery should have been replaced years ago.

  And then Maldis got to his feet as well, saying, “Very educational, your Highness. I did learn a great deal this afternoon.” For the briefest of seconds his gaze moved past the Mark to fasten on me before shifting back to Kadar once again. “If I may take my leave?”

  Kadar grinned and clapped the man on the shoulder. “Of course, my dear Maldis. There’s just enough time to rest up a bit before supper.”

  “Excellent, your Highness.” Maldis bowed, and moved past us to descend from the dais — but not before I caught one last baleful glare from those blue eyes. His manner might have been obsequious, but I knew then that I had made an enemy that afternoon.

  I ignored the icy tendrils of dread creeping down my back, and smiled sweetly and said, “Thank you for your service this afternoon, Maldis.”

  He could do nothing save bow again before hurrying away. I held my breath, but he did not look back, and was soon gone.

  Kadar touched my arm. “I would speak with you, Lark.”

  “This does not surprise me,” I replied lightly. “But would you not rather have such a discussion in our apartments?”

  To that he offered no argument, only nodding before taking me by the arm and leading me from the chamber. Truly, it was not that far from the Hall of Grievances to our tower rooms, but the journey seemed to take a good deal longer than it usually did.

  Once we were inside the suite, he had to hold his tongue for a while longer, as Beranne was there, since she had been watching Tresi during my absence. And even once Beranne had departed, the dog decided to show her displeasure at our being gone so long by running in circles around Kadar’s feet and pausing to paw at his tall boots from time to time, looking so silly that the grim set of his mouth relaxed and he laughed, bending down to scratch her behind the ears while she joyfully panted during these ministrations.

  “I should be angry with you, Kadar Arkalis,” I commented, “for you said the dog was to be mine, but it seems she loves you far more.”

  “Ah, well, she is only making up to the pack leader,” he replied, still smiling. “I have no doubt that if she were to hear something that frightened her, it is to your arms she would go running.”

  “I thought you said grishonds were great fighters.”

  “Some, it is true. But I am beginning to think that Tresi here has more in common with those silly long-haired lapdogs the court ladies in Sirlende love to carry about.”

  I couldn’t argue with that; the dog was sweet-tempered and always looking for affection, and thought nothing of her dignity when it came to rolling on her back and exposing her belly for a good rubbing.

  But then the grin faded as Kadar straightened and stared down at me. “I have never seen you contradict me in the Hall of Grievances before.”

  “That is because you gave me no reason to contradict you.” I did not flinch away from the sharp, speculative look in his eyes as I added, surprised at my own daring, “I cannot say I care overmuch for the counsel your new advisor gives.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  He did not reply at once, but went over to his desk, where a decanter of wine sat. After pouring a measure into a pair of goblets, he held one out to me.

  I could think of no way to refuse, so I crossed the room and took the heavy glass from him. He seemed to be expecting me to continue, and I said, “It is only that you never seemed to require anyone’s advice before now. So what has changed?”

  Something shifted in his expression then, a shuttering of the eyes. I did not pretend to know him well, although I thought I had gained a few insights into his mind over the past month. Once again I experienced that sensation of being shut out, of him concealing things from me.

  What would he do, I wondered, if I were to go to him now, to press my cheek against his chest and put my arms around him? Would such a demonstration allow him to open up to me?

  Foolish questions, for I knew I did not have the courage to do that…even if some traitor part of me very much wished to.

  This all would have been much easier if I could have hated him.

  He said then, “The world is changing, Lark, and we must perforce change with it. I thought it wise to enlist the services of someone who had experience of these things, who comes from a land more wealthy, more powerful than ours.”

  Ours. Such a small word, but it told me something that heartened me a little. Despite the distance he had put between us, Kadar apparently counted me as his fellow Northerner, even though I had lived here little more than a month. True, a wife took on the country and connections of her husband, but even so, it meant that somewhere in his mind and heart he thought of me as kin, not a simple pawn.

  “I see nothing wrong in that,” I said carefully. “But who is this Maldis? What are his recommendations?”

  Again I got that sense of Kadar closing away from me. His eyes did not quite meet mine as he replied, “He was lately in service to the king of Purth, but several of the king’s other advisors grew jealous of his influence, and saw that he was removed from his position. Not being of high birth, he had little recourse but to try to offer his talents to someone else — and North Eredor is far enough removed from Purth that there is no chance of the king worrying about him revealing any state secrets to me.”

  And what precisely are those talents? I wondered. Magic, yes, but of what sort? What has he promised?

  I knew I could never ask these things, of course. To do so would be to reveal my own abilities, and sadly, I did not trust Kadar enough for that. “It is unfortunate that he was put in such a position. However, I do not think he understands North Eredor.”

  A short, humorless laugh met this comment. “And you do? Forgive me, my lady, but I hardly think a month here allow
s you to assume the mantle of an expert.”

  “I did not say I was an expert,” I replied, refusing to let the anger show in my voice. “All I said was that neither is Maldis.”

  Kadar shrugged, and took a sip of wine. “True, he does not have much experience yet with our ways, but he does understand the management of a kingdom, the demands required for its protection, the burdens that a ruler must carry. I know you have quite the education, for a young woman, but I somehow doubt you were raised to counsel a king.”

  To that remark I had no ready answer, for he was correct, of course. Perhaps I could have argued that my study of history allowed me some perspective on such matters. Even so, it was one thing to remember the names and dates of a succession of kings, or even to know what treaties they made and which laws they passed, and quite another to live with these concerns from day to day, to know when to make peace or make war, to judge correctly when the population might support an extra tax, or when to let such things relax in times of flood or drought or famine.

  “This may be true,” I said slowly. “But I have come to like your people, Kadar, like them very much. I only want what is best for them.”

  At these words a certain light I had missed lately shone once again in his eyes, and he smiled as he answered, “It is to your credit that you feel this way. And glad I am to hear it, for I know now that you spoke this afternoon only out of a desire to help that innkeeper, and not from some wayward desire to contradict me.”

  I smiled back, glad that he could recognize that much in me. And though I wished I had the courage to step forward, to move closer to him, something seemed to hold me in place. He appeared similarly thwarted, his gaze holding me for a second before he returned his attention to his wine goblet, and then made some offhand comment about supper, and the moment was lost.

  If only I knew whether to be disappointed or relieved.

  * * *