Above His Proper Station

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “You have done what you could,” Nivain said. “You cannot save those who refuse to be saved.”

  Anrel’s head snapped around, and he stared at her. “I could not save Reva, to my everlasting shame,” he said, “but I intend to do better this time.”

  “What will you do then, kidnap him, as he believes you meant to do?” Perynis demanded. “He has made his choice, Anrel.”

  For a moment Anrel did not answer; he had no answer, no glib solution. “Perhaps Lord Blackfield may have a suggestion,” he said at last. “After all, he is a sorcerer—he may have some spell that can persuade my uncle.”

  “But Lord Dorias is a sorcerer, as well,” Nivain pointed out. “He undoubtedly has wards guarding him against such spells.”

  Anrel looked at her thoughtfully. “Yes, he is a sorcerer,” he acknowledged, “and you, Mistress Lir, are a witch. So are your daughters. Is there nothing you can do to convince my uncle to listen?”

  “As you so recently reminded me,” Nivain said coldly, “I have already lost one daughter trying to enchant a sorcerer. I have no intention of risking another in such an enterprise. I owe you a great debt, Master Murau, for your kindnesses to my daughters and myself, for your aid against my husband, and for your offer of transportation to Quand, but it is not so great a debt as that.”

  “No, of course not,” Anrel agreed, abashed.

  The latch rattled, and the black door swung wide; Anrel turned to see Tazia standing in the opening, with Ollith behind her, his hand on the door handle, and in the shadows of the passage beyond Anrel thought he saw his cousin, Lady Saria.

  “Anrel,” Tazia said. She sounded worried.

  “My dearest Tazia,” Anrel replied.

  “I have been asked to leave,” she said.

  “I know,” Anrel said. “My uncle thinks me a liar, and believes my entire tale to be a scheme to somehow extort money.”

  Tazia had no answer for that; she descended the granite steps, looking shaken.

  Behind her the footman started to swing the door shut, but as Anrel put an arm around Tazia he called out. “Hold a moment, if you please, Ollith.”

  The door stopped.

  “Ollith—Master Tuir—please, I ask you, as a personal favor, speak to Lord Dorias. He will not believe me, but in time he will see that he is in grave danger. When that realization comes, for the love of the Mother, do whatever you can to get him out of the city to safety. Lord Blackfield and I will be gone, but there may be some other opportunity, one that my presence will not taint. If you have any loyalty to the House of Adirane, Master Tuir, do whatever you can to encourage my uncle to seize that opportunity.”

  Anrel thought he saw Ollith’s face appear in the opening, then glance back along the passage. Then the door opened a few inches wider, and Ollith stepped out.

  “Master Murau,” he said, “I hear what you say, and I will take it under advisement. Let me ask you, though—when you were proposing to smuggle Lord Dorias and Lady Saria out of the city, did you give any thought to me, or the other members of the staff? Were we to simply be abandoned here, with the house and its other furnishings?”

  Anrel’s mouth opened, then closed again. Then he said, “I’m sorry. I could make excuses about how you are in no danger from the conspirators, how you are beneath their notice, but I know better. Who knows what they might do? And in any case, we would be leaving you unemployed, among people who are distrustful of anything associated with sorcerers. That would be poor repayment for your years of faithful service, and I profoundly regret my thoughtlessness, Master Tuir.”

  “I will consider your apology, Master Murau, and will further consider whether I put any more faith in your claims than does my employer. Good day, sir.”

  With that, he stepped back inside and slammed the door.

  “Lord Blackfield couldn’t fit the entire household, could he?” Tazia asked. “Not with all of us.”

  “Probably not,” Anrel admitted.

  “How long until Lord Blackfield gets here?” Perynis asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Anrel said, looking at the angle of the sun. “Less than an hour, I should judge.”

  “I, for one, am eager to be on my way,” Perynis said. “I’ve had quite enough of cleaning other people’s floors, and I look forward to working as a witch again.”

  “You’ll need to learn Quandish first,” Nivain reminded her.

  “Then learn it I will,” Perynis said. She turned to Tazia. “We can practice together.”

  “I’m not certain I’m going,” Tazia said.

  Perynis’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “I am in no great danger here,” she said. “Not really. The conspirators will undoubtedly be too busy with sorcerers to trouble themselves about witches. Let me leave one more space in the coach for someone who needs it more—that footman, perhaps.”

  “If you stay, then so do I,” Anrel said.

  “But they are hunting you,” Tazia exclaimed.

  “I have eluded capture before,” Anrel said. “I can do it again. I won’t leave you.”

  Before Tazia could reply Nivain let out a shriek; astonished, the others turned to find her staring at the watchmen’s arch. Anrel whirled. The shadowy figure he had seen there had emerged.

  It was Garras Lir, and he held a chunk of wood in one upraised hand, as if to club someone.

  Anrel stepped forward to confront him, uncomfortably aware that he was unarmed—but his feet were on the ground, and he could sense the earth’s magic beneath him, ready to be drawn upon and used.

  “Get away from my wife,” Garras growled.

  Nivain and Perynis quickly stepped behind Anrel; Tazia remained at his side.

  “Sir, I suggest you leave,” Anrel said coldly.

  “And I suggest you mind your own damned business,” Garras replied. “I’ve heard some of what you’ve been talking about—the wardens are looking for you, aren’t they? If you don’t get away from my family, I’ll let them know where you are.”

  “You tried something like that before, in Beynos,” Anrel said. “It did not work out well for you there, and it will do no better here. These women want no part of you.”

  “These women are mine,” Garras roared. “I paid good money for that one, and sired the others on her, and that makes them mine!”

  “Paid?” Anrel directed his question to the Lir women, rather than to Garras.

  “We were married by bridal auction,” Nivain said. “But that made me his wife, not his property!”

  Anrel had heard of bridal auctions, but never seen one; Lord Dorias had not permitted them in Alzur, and in modern times they were a rural custom, not practiced in Lume for a century or more. Still, he understood how they worked, and Nivain was right. The bride had the right to refuse bids from any man she deemed unsuitable, as a bondwoman or slave would not. Nivain had made a poor choice, but it was not irrevocable. “She is a free woman,” Anrel said. “You lost any claim to her when you drove her away.”

  “I’m still her husband,” Garras said. “And their father. You step away.”

  “I don’t think I will do that,” Anrel said. He began drawing magic up into his chest, around his heart, and tried to remember how to work a warding that would stop a blow.

  Garras raised his makeshift club. “I’m warning you, Murau, I will not hesitate to strike you down, or to call for the wardens.”

  “Go away!” Nivain shouted. “Leave us alone!”

  “I paid for you!” Garras shouted back. “You owe me!”

  “Twenty years of my earnings repaid you a dozen times over!” Nivain retorted.

  “Let us be, Father,” Perynis said. “We are going to Quand, and you will never see us again.”

  “You are not going to Quand without me,” Garras said.

  “I think they are,” Anrel said.

  Garras had no more words; he swung his club two-handed at Anrel’s head.

  Anrel’s hand came up, and the improvised warding thickened the
air, slowing the blow so that Anrel was able to catch the wooden bar before it struck his ear. He quickly grabbed it with his other hand as well, and tried to wrench it from the other man’s grip.

  Garras did not relinquish his hold, and the two men stood face-to-face, each trying to pull the chunk of wood free of the other’s hands.

  Tazia reached up, trying to grab it as well to help Anrel. Nivain stepped back and looked for some other weapon, while Perynis dashed up the steps to pound on the door of Adirane House.

  And then a new figure entered the scene. A tall man stumbled from beneath the watchmen’s arch into Wizard’s Hill Court. This new arrival wore a fine silk coat but no hat; his hair was in disarray, and blood smeared one side of his head. His right hand held a sword, and both hand and blade were also bloodied.

  Anrel was too busy with his struggle with Garras to notice the swordsman at first, but then he saw Tazia step back, and heard Nivain draw her breath in sharply. Without releasing his grasp on the club, he shot a glance toward the arch.

  He recognized the man instantly, and froze.

  The swordsman stopped for a moment to take in the scene before him, where two men were grappling with a two-foot piece of wood while three women watched; then he saw the face of the younger, lighter man.

  “Father and Mother,” he said. “You!”

  Garras, who had been too intent on the struggle to notice the new arrival, started at the sound of a voice behind him, and tried to twist his head to see who spoke. Anrel released the club and stepped back. “Landgrave,” he said.

  “What are you doing here, Murau?” Lord Allutar demanded.

  “I could ask you the same, my lord,” Anrel replied.

  “I have come to speak to my fiancée, of course.”

  “And I came to speak to my uncle.”

  “And who is this?” Allutar pointed his sword at Garras.

  “An unpleasant fellow named Garras Lir,” Anrel replied. “He and I have been discussing whether or not he has the right to abuse his wife and daughters.”

  “Ah. Then I suppose that bruise is his handiwork?” Allutar gestured with the sword, indicating Nivain’s face. His powers of observation had clearly not been impaired by whatever misfortune had befallen him.

  Nivain put a hand to her cheek and nodded.

  “Indeed,” Anrel said. “But I am at a loss, my lord, to identify the source of your own injuries.” He gestured at Allutar’s bloodied head.

  “That would be the watchman whose sword I bear,” Allutar replied.

  “And is that his blood upon the blade?”

  “It is.”

  “Then I take it he is not in pursuit?”

  “His comrades were,” Allutar said. “I hope I have eluded them.”

  Garras had turned during this conversation and now stood, club raised, facing Lord Allutar. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Dear me, where are my manners?” Anrel said. “Master Garras Lir, allow me to present Lord Allutar Hezir, landgrave of Aulix.” He frowned. “You know, I thought you had met, this past winter in Beynos.”

  “Did we?” Allutar asked, turning his attention to Garras’s face.

  “Yes,” Garras growled, tightening his grip on the length of wood. “I didn’t recognize you at first, but I should have, you murdering bastard.”

  “Oh?” Allutar’s grip on the sword, which had been quite casual, suddenly tightened, and the point swiveled toward Garras’s throat.

  “You hanged his daughter,” Anrel said.

  Allutar’s eyes widened slightly, but remained fixed on Garras. “The witch?”

  “Yes,” Anrel said.

  “How unfortunate. Then these others are her mother and sisters?”

  “Yes,” Tazia said, glaring at Allutar.

  It was at that moment that the front door of Adirane House swung open, startling Perynis so badly she nearly fell down the steps. Lord Dorias looked out at the half-dozen people in the court, and asked, “What is going on here?”

  “Lord Dorias,” Allutar called. “I have come to speak to you and your daughter regarding a matter of some urgency, but perhaps I chose a bad time.”

  “Allutar? What happened to you?”

  “It would appear that I have been declared an outlaw,” Allutar replied.

  “As I told you, Uncle,” Anrel said.

  “You, an outlaw?” Dorias exclaimed. “That’s absurd!”

  “Nonetheless, it is true,” Allutar said, keeping his attention on Garras and his raised club.

  “But you’re a landgrave! A sorcerer!”

  Lord Allutar grimaced. “At present, my lord, I am a sorcerer in name only. My true name has been invoked, and magic has been forbidden me.”

  “They have your true name?”

  “As I told you, Uncle,” Anrel repeated.

  “It would seem there is some truth to your nephew’s story,” Tazia said triumphantly.

  “Indeed,” Lord Dorias said, his tone making his surprise and confusion plain. “Who are these others, Mistress Lir?”

  “This is my father, my mother, and my sister, Lord Dorias,” Tazia explained.

  “Your father? He was not here earlier.”

  “I would prefer he was not here now, my lord.”

  “I have a right to be here!” Garras proclaimed, taking one hand from the club to point at Nivain. “She’s my wife!”

  “No more!” Nivain retorted. “You have given up the right to call me that!”

  Anrel heard Lady Saria call a question from somewhere behind her father, but he could not make out the words.

  “Just a moment, my dear,” Lord Dorias replied.

  Lady Saria spoke again, and Lord Dorias threw up his hands. “By the Father!” he said. “This is madness, and utter confusion!” Then he stepped back and beckoned. “All of you, pray come inside, so that we might sort this out in peace.”

  Perynis quickly accepted the invitation, dashing past Dorias. Nivain was close behind.

  Lord Allutar hesitated. “I can spare little time …”

  “Then don’t waste any of it arguing,” Dorias said. “Come in, please!”

  Allutar opened his mouth, then closed it again and shrugged. “As you please, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Uncle,” Anrel said. He turned to Lord Allutar. “Would you care to precede me, my lord?”

  Allutar glanced at Garras, then said, “If it is all the same to you, Master Murau, I would prefer to bring up the rear.”

  Anrel glanced at Garras and nodded. “Of course,” he said.

  Accordingly, Garras was next to enter, then Tazia, then Anrel, until finally Lord Allutar, bloody sword still in his hand, crossed the threshold, and Lord Dorias, after a final look around at the now-deserted Wizard’s Hill Court, slammed the door shut.

  34

  In Which Important Matters Are Discussed

  Ollith took Garras’s club, handling it as if it were a guest’s walking stick, and a moment later provided Lord Allutar with a cloth for cleaning his blade. He also brought a bowl of clean water and a towel, and while Allutar cleaned his sword, Ollith attended to the landgrave’s head wound. While that was happening the others sorted themselves out, occupying every one of the half-dozen seats in the parlor. Lady Saria, not waiting for the servants to act, brought two additional chairs from the salon for herself and her uncle.

  The scene seemed oddly homey and peaceful, Anrel thought, despite the wound on Lord Allutar’s head, the bruise on Nivain’s cheek, and the expressions on many of the faces. The afternoon sun pouring through the lace curtains painted ornate shadows on the Ermetian carpet and the velvet-upholstered furniture, and a fine china teacup stood forgotten on an end table. A scent of lavender lingered in the air, though Anrel was unsure whether it came from some part of the room’s furnishings, or from Lady Saria.

  Nivain and Perynis were on the settee by the front window, with Tazia at one side and Anrel at the other; an attempt by Garras to take one of the neighboring chairs had been foil
ed by Anrel. Lord Allutar had the armchair nearest the door to the salon, which relegated Garras to the matching armchair by the hearth, which he turned to face the others. Lord Dorias and Lady Saria placed their own chairs to Allutar’s left, facing Nivain and her daughters.

  “Now, Lord Allutar,” Lord Dorias said when everyone was seated, “would you please explain what brings you hither, and how you came to be injured?”

  “I came to warn you and your daughter, Dorias, and to make my farewells.”

  “Warn us of what?”

  Allutar glanced at Anrel, then turned back to his host. “This morning,” he said, “I went to the Aldian Baths to take part in the deliberations of the Grand Council, as usual, but instead I found that a coalition of certain elements had taken control of the council and of the city’s government. The Committee for the Regulation of Sorcery and the Committee for the Restoration of Order, created from opposing factions and intended to balance each other, have instead formed an unholy alliance, which they call the Joint Committee. With the assistance of the burgrave of Lume and parties within the imperial court, they have seized control of the City Watch and the neighborhood wardens. They have declared a state of emergency, and issued orders for the arrest and interrogation of, by their announced count, perhaps a hundred individuals they deem most responsible for the unrest and misfortunes of the past year, and whom they intend to try for treason.” He looked at Anrel again. “About a dozen of those listed had been members of the council, but were expelled this morning. Of that dozen, I believe all but Master Murau were present at the time. I take it, Master Murau, that your friends on the Committee for the Regulation of Sorcery warned you?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Anrel admitted. “I was a member of that committee, and this morning, when I arrived at the baths, one of my fellows notified me of the planned arrests. I left immediately.”

  “My compatriots of the Cloakroom were not so generous,” Allutar said. “When I realized where the speech was going I knew my name would be included, and I prepared to act. I did not wait to hear every name spoken; indeed, I did not wait for any of them, though I did hear a few. When one of Lord Koril’s watchmen came up behind me, intending to arrest me the instant my name was spoken, I took his sword away from him, plunged it through his belly, and ran. Most of the crowd scattered before me at the sight of the bloodied blade, but a few did not, and one managed to strike me above the ear, giving me the wound your man, Lord Dorias, has been good enough to clean and bandage, before I could make my way free.”