by Jean Johnson
“Alys, nobody’s going to be coming here!” Koranen protested, waving the notion away with a sweep of his arm that made his twin duck to the side a little. “This is Nightfall, land of the exiled! It’s been that way since Aiar fell, and it will continue to be that way for centuries more!”
“Not unless the conditions of the Island Curse are fulfilled,” Morganen pointed out, correcting his twin as he straightened up again. “Isn’t one of the conditional lines ‘When royalty has reigned’? And has that not just occurred with Kelly’s claiming of this land?”
“I need to find a copy of this new ‘Curse, ’ ” Kelly muttered as the older brothers stared at their youngest sibling.
“When you do, mind sharing it with me?” Alys returned equally under her breath, leaning past the eldest pair of the Corvis twins. Kelly nodded.
Saber sighed and rapped his knuckles on the table. “Before we get that far . . . do we want to have a sovereign ruler, whether or not he or she is a mage, like some lands have? Or a mage-king who heads the Council of Mages, like Katan has?”
“I don’t think you’d want a mage-king,” Morganen retorted dryly. “I would rule over all of you, as the strongest mage on the island, and I would far rather not be a ruler.”
“Anyone coming here to live would be expecting a mage-king or mage-queen,” Evanor pointed out. “They would also be expecting the most powerful of the island’s Council to be that ruler.”
“And again, I don’t want the position!” Morg repeated, lifting his hands to absolve himself of that option.
“Neither do I,” Rydan offered bluntly, reminding the others once again of his presence. Slanting his gaze around the table, he added, “I would not care to live under Dominor’s rule, either.”
“Excuse me, but what if the people we invite here don’t want a magocracy?” Kelly interjected. “If they want that, they can stay on Katan, because that’s not the sort of government I’m thinking of for this land.”
Saber started to say something, paused, then licked his lips and asked his wife, “What do you envision? You come from a world where magic doesn’t exist, so how do your people choose their leaders? By birthright?”
“By dozens of different ways, actually; there are well over a hundred different nations, where I come from,” Kelly enlightened them. “Now, I come from a democratic republic—”
“A what?” Koranen asked her. He wasn’t the only one frowning in puzzlement. Just because Ultra Tongue translated the spoken and the written word for its drinkers didn’t mean that it completely translated the culturally unique terms. Kelly was speaking in Katani, as far as they were concerned . . . but she was still an outworlder.
“Representational government,” the redhead explained, keeping it short and simple. “Every adult of the age of eighteen or older has the right to vote for a local government official, who then represents their region in the greater government. A democracy is where everyone gets a vote, and a republic is where people are governed by representatives. A democratic republic is where the people vote to select their representatives.”
From the skeptical, dubious, and downright disturbed looks on the faces around her, Kelly knew she wasn’t going to succeed with that one. Which only figures, she knew, since only those governments where the people themselves want democracy actually succeed as democratic republics. You have to have the will to make it work, to make it work successfully. Changing mental gears, she made a slight change in what she had in mind.
“Now, I realize from the looks on your faces that this is a really radical idea. And it only works well when everyone involved is interested in the idea. But . . . what I’m thinking about is a variation on that idea, and a variation on what you already know: a constitutional monarchy.”
“A what monarchy?” Trevan asked.
“Constitutional monarchy,” Kelly explained. “Certain inviolate rights for all citizens are spelled out in a constitution—a charter with a simple set of rules and laws that even the king or queen must obey—and then you have regional representatives who bring their people’s concerns before the king or queen. The monarch usually has the final say over what happens, unless a very high percentage of the representatives choose otherwise, and that percentage is spelled out in the constitution. It has all the stability of a sovereign monarchy, but with the added reassurance to the people that they can have a say in their government.
“After all, a leader only leads by the will of the people,” she reminded them. “And best of all . . . it can be implemented right now as a democracy, with all island inhabitants having a voice in the government—you being my advisors—but with the monarch having final say. You know that I’ll be relying on all of you to give me good advice anyway, so it’s basically not much different than what we have right now,” Kelly reminded them. “And when we have enough people, they can divide themselves up, vote for town mayors or district representatives, and they can advise whomever is the sovereign at that point in time in the form an elected cabinet of advisors.”
“Does this actually work?” Morganen asked her, his tone more curious than challenging.
“Back in my old world, there is an island, the Isle of Man. It’s less than half the size of this one, and it has been ruled successfully in this very manner for over a thousand years. And right next to it is an island many times the size of this one, Great Britain, that has been ruled in this way for almost as long, about eight hundred years. It’s a very stable form of leadership, as I said. In fact,” Kelly added, “Great Britain at one point had so many colonies around the world—much like the Mandarites were seeking to form—and various other protectorates, lands that had accepted their protection against others, that it was said that the sun never set on the British Empire.”
Saber studied his wife. “Remind me to ask your friend, Hope, for a book of your world’s history.”
“I’m already doing that,” Morganen agreed. The others glanced sharply at him, and he shrugged. “What? I already said I’d keep an eye on her, for Kelly’s sake.”
Saber snorted. “Her name is Hope. I think you’re keeping an eye on her for your own sake.”
“I remind you, I have to see the lot of you safely wedded before I can even think about myself,” Morganen returned flippantly, sitting back in his seat. Alys, knowing Morganen somewhat from their years of clandestine conversations, guessed that part of that flippancy was defensiveness in disguise. “She is Kelly’s friend, and I am keeping an eye on her for that reason. Make of that whatever you will.”
“Can we get back to the subject of how to destroy Broger of Devries?” Wolfer asked the others. He stifled a yawn and added, “Government can wait. Especially if it’s a version of what we already have. We need a way to reflect Broger’s spells back onto himself. It’s rather late; we shouldn’t waste more time on something we can talk about later.”
“The idea of reflecting his spells back on himself . . . that suggests a literal mirror to me,” Evanor told the others. “I have song-spells that can reflect magics back at their caster, but I’d rather use a mirror than my own voice. The less we counter his powers directly, the less likely we are to be affected by his countering words.”
Morganen nodded. “I think I might know a spell for enchanting a mirror to reflect back any magic cast in its direction. And I think the quality of sand we already have on hand might be good enough to craft them. Certainly, we should have more than one mirror; there’s no telling from which direction we might have to defend from an attack.”
A hand raised, and the others looked at Kelly. “Could I have one of these mirrors? All of the rest of you have magic to protect yourselves. I can probably fight off any of his beasties physically, but I can’t deflect any spells back on their owner.”
“She gets the very first one,” Saber stated, poking his thumb at his wife. His brothers and Alys nodded their agreement. “How soon do you think you can find that spell and figure out how long it will take to enchant the mirrors, Morg?”<
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“I’ll start looking after breakfast tomorrow morning. Wolfer is right,” Morganen added as he lifted his hand to hide a yawn. “It is rather late.”
A soft laugh made the brothers look at Rydan, whose lips had curved up a little as he sat there, arms folded across his chest.
His twin whapped him on the shoulder. “Stop being so smug, you night-lover!”
SIXTEEN
Wolfer stifled a yawn as he closed the door behind Alys and himself. His quarters weren’t lit until she reached up and tapped one of the lightglobes in its stand; soft light illuminated first the sitting room, then the bedchamber as she tapped one of the globes in there as well. Wolfer left the light in the other room lit; they had plenty of comsworg oil from which to make new ones, if these should burn out anytime soon. They had traded several blocks of salt and his next-youngest brother, Dominor, for several gallons of the stuff after all, even if the trade had supposedly been for the salt alone.
Wherever he is, Wolfer thought as he followed Alys into his bedroom, I hope his . . . well, knowing him, I can’t hope that his own path to love and happiness is gentler than mine has been. The thought curved the corner of his mouth in merriment. That’s just not his way. He’s too intense for “gentle.” But I hope it isn’t too much more interesting than mine and Alys’ courtship has been. Which culture has the saying, “May you live in interesting times”? The distant land of Threefold Fate?
It didn’t really matter. Alys was plucking tiredly at her clothes, wanting to get undressed but looking worn out from the emotional end to her day. A whispered phrase allowed Wolfer’s magic to finish unfastening her clothes, drawing them from her limbs. She gave him a smile for the help, but had to cover it with her hand as she yawned.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I’m just out of energy, I think.”
“Why don’t you use the refreshing room first?” Wolfer offered as he worked to remove his own tunic. She nodded and padded to the door, almost tripping as the disrobing charm removed the last of her underclothes. Suppressing the urge to snicker, Wolfer stripped himself down to his skin. When she came out again, he pulled her against him, warm flesh to warm flesh, and kissed her.
Alys sighed happily . . . and then yawned. “Dammit!” A blush stole over her face as she realized what she’d done. It was the second time that evening she’d sworn; the first time, she had vulgarly ordered Wolfer’s brothers to pucker up and kiss an indelicate part of her anatomy. Ducking her head now, she muttered into his chest, “I want to . . . to have some fun with you, but I’m too tired to even try.”
Kissing the top of her curly dark blond head, Wolfer released his mate. “There’s always the morning. I don’t have any chores until noon, which means you don’t have any, either. Though I suppose I should offer to help the others with their mirror-spells.”
“I should help, too.” She nodded. “Not that I know much about creating magical mirrors, but I do know some of my uncle’s spells. But for that, we both need our sleep.”
He closed the door between them. Alys climbed into the bed. It was a warm evening, so she climbed out again, stripped off the thicker of the two blankets, then returned herself to the bed, muttering a mouth-scrubbing spell to get the film off her teeth. She had left her uncle’s care with a teeth-scrubber in the bags and bundles of her belongings, but that had been left behind when she manufactured her “death scene” at the hands of illusionary pookrahs. The charm left her mouth a little tender after each use, compared to a scrubber, but it would do until she could get a replacement. Wolfer had one sitting on the sink counter in his refreshing room, but she hadn’t felt right about borrowing it without his permission.
There were a lot of things she didn’t have with her anymore that she would like. Little things, like a hairbrush, a teeth-scrubber, ribbons for her hair, a pair of indoor slippers other than the old pair Kelly had found for her among the palace’s discarded belongings, a new pair of outdoor boots for when she had to feed the chickens. Her monthlies were due in another quarter-turning of Brother Moon, too; she’d need supplies for that. And if Morganen is going to quiz me on what I’ve learned and give me new spells to master, I’ll need pen, ink, and paper . . .
All of those things would take money, and someone to purchase them for her, since she couldn’t barter directly with the sea-merchants the brothers traded with twice a month. She didn’t have many coins left, and Alys wasn’t quite sure how to earn more on an island with only nine other people in residence. Wolfer came out of the refreshing room, looking muscular and handsome and wonderfully naked. Wondering if she was really all that tired, Alys scooted back across the bed, making room for him so he could join her.
She was studying him speculatively. Wolfer arched his brow at her. “Yes?”
Shivering at the sexy, deep-voiced rumble, Alys scooted closer. It was a warm night, but she liked the heat of his body. “I was just wondering . . .”
“I thought you were too tired,” he half-purred, half-growled, tugging her until she faced away from him, allowing their bodies to spoon together.
“What? Oh . . . well, not quite as much as I thought . . . but I was thinking about something else.”
“Oh?”
“Well . . . I need employment. I sold what little jewelry I had smuggled inside my clothes in order to pay for my mirror-passage to this side of Katan, but it took most of my money to come here. And I need . . . things,” she explained.
Wolfer smoothed the tickling feel of her curls away from his nose. “Well, there’s lots of . . . things,” he teased her gently, “in the palace, left over from previous visitors. But if we don’t have it, just tell me and I’ll buy it for you. We can order almost anything from the merchants who visit us.”
“I know you want to buy things for me, and it’s very nice of you, but . . . it’s not the same thing as me earning the money. It’s not the same thing as me contributing to . . . to the economy of Nightfall Isle,” she stated, figuring out how to put it into words. “I want a job. I want to be paid for my work, even if it’s just washing dishes and feeding the chickens.”
“You mean the citizen-chickens,” Wolfer rumbled, chuckling.
“The what?” Alys asked, craning her head to look back at him.
He smoothed her hair back down and explained. “Oh, it was something Kelly said when she laid claim to the island, back when the Mandarites first arrived. We were setting up the illusion of a kingdom, and she had laid claim to all of us twins as her ‘citizens,’ as inhabitants of the island. And then pointed out the only other inhabitants were the chickens, though she wasn’t sure if they should be counted as fellow citizens. And so the joke just sort of . . . stuck.” Wolfer shrugged.
“Citizen-chickens.” Alys thought about it. The idea was an amusing one. She laughed softly and squeezed the arm he had wrapped around her waist. “Fine, then. I want to be paid for dealing with the ornery, cantankerous, pecking-mad citizen-chickens. As the official Nightfall Isle citizen-chicken feeder.”
“Considering how much ‘Her Majesty’ loathes said chickens, I think she’d be willing to bestow a handsome salary upon you, in exchange for never having to do that particular task again,” he chuckled. “Hmm . . . that does beg the question of who should be our Exchequer. Probably Saber. He’s used his position as the eldest-born to appropriate funds from the rest of us for large purchases. Of course, he’s also the Royal Consort and Lord Protector. Dominor has a good handle on finances . . . but he’s the Lord Chancellor.”
“Do all of you have titles?”
“Oh, yes. Saber is Consort, Protector of the Queen, and General of the Armies,” Wolfer explained to her. “I’m Master of the Hunt, and Captain of the Armies. Dominor is Lord Chancellor, a title well-suited to him since he loves formality and bossing others around. Evanor is Lord Chamberlain . . . which I suppose could include Exchequer, since he’s in charge of the household, which would include managing its accounts.
“And Trevan?”
Wolfer laughed
again. “Kelly asked what he ‘did’ around here, and Trev was rather insulted by the question. We called him sneaky, so she named him her Lord Vizier, her ‘Chief of Intelligence’ . . . which I think is basically a Spymaster. Koranen is her Lord Secretary, and Morganen is her Court Mage.”
“And Rydan?” Alys asked, curious.
“Lord of the Night, Protector of Nightfall.”
“I thought you said Saber was the Protector,” she pointed out, confused.
“He’s the protector of Kelly. Rydan gets to protect the whole island. But only at night,” Wolfer rumbled, teasing his absent brother. “He’s not allowed to protect it during the day.”
“He is an odd one, isn’t he?” Alys murmured, yawning at the end of her question.
“Yes. I can only imagine what sort of woman would be able to tolerate him and his odd ways.” Wolfer yawned himself after a moment, then pulled her closer. “We’ll have to come up with a title for you.”
“Maybe I could be the Exchequer?” Alys offered. “I do know how to balance accounts; my uncle had me keep the records for the supplies spent in feeding his menagerie, and keeping his collection of spell ingredients well stocked. Of course, I’m not the exchequer he had hiding those amounts in the set of tax books the king’s collectors got to see; I’m not good enough to hide dubious sums . . . but I can keep an honest set of records.”
That made him chuckle again. “I think that’s a better qualification than your tone of voice would suggest. I don’t think ‘Queen’ Kelly would appreciate an embezzler in the family.”
“Mm. Probably not. But if some other wife-to-be comes along, and she’s better at managing accounts than I am, I wouldn’t object to stepping aside. So long as I can be Lady of the Herds or something . . .” she mumbled, as sleep started to claim her. “Because I really do . . . want . . . dairy cows . . .”
