“I thought the Arcane Orders didn’t get involved in that sort of political thing?” Grendine chided.
“Alshar is a different matter. This isn’t a local rebellion, this is a coup d’ etat against Royal authority, by magical means. The involvement of the Censorate means that we are obligated to assist. Besides,” I added, “there’s no fucking way I’m marching down that entire peninsula, again,” I said. I wasn’t joking. “We’ll be able to at least get a few agents and assassins in. Give us six months and we can probably stage an insurrection.”
“You give me that, I’ll get you the assassins,” Grendine promised.
“That would be cheaper than mounting another invasion, particularly without the Alshari fleet,” agreed Count Mendeku. “I wish there was some way to get the army at Maidenspool to march on Farise,” he said, envisioning the strategy in his mind.
Master Loiko beat me to it. “No! The western side of the peninsula is far less accommodating than the east, else we would have launched the original invasion from Alshar, not Castal. Send those men south and you send them to a quick death,” he warned.
“We will have to rely on a clandestine strategy, for now,” Rard decided. “But I do not like the looks of this, my friends. First the Westlands, then Sevendor and Castabriel, now Farise. I fear our kingdom is fraying at the edges,” he said, deeply troubled.
I spent a few moments speaking with Loiko, after the briefing. We figured out a way to transport a Waystone to Farise, using the Wizard Trading Company agent there and a shared hoxter pocket. Loiko was eager to assist. He seemed personally insulted by his former territory being ruled by the Censorate.
“I will destroy them myself, if they molest the arcane library there,” he promised me. “Orril Pratt had works on his shelves thought lost in the Conquest. It was a boon to even see them. Did you chance to study there?”
“I wasn’t able to read them,” I pointed out. “I wasn’t in the officer corps. I was putting down insurrection, beating the resistance, and killing undead in the streets. How is the new position treating you?”
“It’s more involved than being your court wizard,” he decided. “Rard knows me, but he doesn’t really trust me, yet. He’s still stricken over Kindine and his grandson. So is Grendine. But this is the third emergency meeting of this sort, this week. You never put me through such trials,” he teased, gently.
“You should demand more money,” I advised.
“Stay for luncheon?” he asked. “The kitchens are quite good, here.”
“Alas, I cannot,” I sighed. “I have many duties to attend to, not the least of which is to prepare Alya and I for a bridal shower. It’s her first official court function, since she fell ill. It ought to be exciting,” I smiled. “For a bridal shower.”
Chapter Seventy-Six
A Ducal Bridal Shower
“Do I have to wear this?” Alya complained, as we waited for the rest of our party in the Great Hall. She was wearing one of her simpler court gowns, one she’d had made after we were made Baron and Baroness. It was a perfectly nice blue gown in the Riverlord style, and one she’d expressed fondness for, before her accident. Now, she was unenthusiastic about it. “It itches!”
“You sound like Minalyan,” I chuckled. “It’s not even enchanted. And all court finery itches. That’s kind of the point.”
“I don’t understand this at all,” Alya said, frustrated. “This is just a party.”
“It’s a party for our friends,” I countered. “You like parties.”
“I do like parties,” she agreed, considering the matter. “But itchy parties?”
“It’s a different kind of party than the Fair,” I explained. “Just . . . it’s different,” I said, lamely. “Sometimes it’s more important for us to be there for our friends than it is to be concerned with our own comfort.” I’d had a similar discussion with Minalyan about wearing hose, like a big boy, once the weather changed.
“And Anguin is a friend of ours,” she stated. “I like him.”
“Yes, you do,” I agreed, patiently. “So you want him to have a good time. Which means you have to put up with an itchy gown for a while. I . . . I could use magic on it,” I added. Alya was a bit suspicious of magic, or anything she didn’t fully understand. When she realized that the dough proofing at the bakery was actually getting bigger, as we talked to my brother-in-law on a visit the other day, she panicked and insisted that we were under attack by living blobs of dough.
“What about Rardine? Do we like her?” she asked.
“We’re . . . open to liking her,” I decided. “But we should pretend to like her, anyway.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because it’s polite, and it would hurt Anguin’s feelings if we didn’t.”
“Oh,” Alya said, pursing her lips judgmentally. “This is harder than I thought.”
“You’ll get used to it,” I promised. “I’ll try to make sure you have fun, somehow. But if you could just bear the discomfort and the long boring speeches and such, I would certainly appreciate it.”
“All right,” she sighed, as if she were doing me a great boon. “I suppose. You are my husband,” she affirmed.
“Yes, I am,” I agreed.
Thankfully, Sire Cei and Lady Estret arrived, looking splendid in their own finery, and kept me from having to explain – again – just what that meant. Behind them was Dara, in her beautiful hawk cloak, looking distant and sullen and prettier than usual, for some reason. She had made some effort to forgive me for “interfering” in her life, but she still held a grudge.
I felt bad about that. But sometimes you had to intervene in someone’s life, even at the risk of a friendship, if wisdom dictated it.
“Everyone looks so beautiful!” Lady Estret assured, looking at each of us in turn. “Alya, your gown is so striking!”
“Thank you,” she said, very seriously. “It makes my boobs itch.”
“Let me take a look, my lady,” Estret said, pulling her toward the chapel, where they could have some privacy. “Perhaps you did not fasten it properly . . .”
“Is this whole affair really necessary?” demanded Dara, crossly.
“Duke Anguin has always been a friend to Sevendor,” Sire Cei reproved. “He is a gentleman and a worthy liege. You should be honored to be included in his private celebrations, Lady Lenodara.”
She frowned, but she didn’t argue further. Part of her discomfort was the news that the Alshari Wing, captained by the Kasari girl, Nattia, had relocated her Riders to Timberwatch . . . permanently. She was not coming back to Sevendor, and neither were her birds. That had put my apprentice in a mood. Dara knew she was behaving poorly. It seemed to be the last vestiges of the teenaged girl leaving her, in favor of the more serious perspective of a young woman. Sire Cei has that effect on you.
“What gift do you bring, Minalan?” Cei asked, curious. “Estret and I are giving them the traditional seven bottles of mead from Cargwynen’s meadery, and two hundredweights of the finest honey.”
“Dragonhide armor, for His Grace,” I said. “I had Tyndal take his measurements, and Taren has been laboring for a week to get it done, with the Antlers-and-Anchor burned into the breastplate with acid. For Her Highness,” I continued, “a selection of amulets designed to assist her in her unofficial duties. The Long Ears spell, perception and deception enchantments, everything an ambitious young assassin and spylord might need.”
“That seems an unusual wedding gift, Minalan,” Cei frowned.
“She’s not your basic bride,” I countered. “I’m no great admirer of her methods, but I am wise enough to know that such methods are often required by those who rule. Anguin would be poorly served by someone of lesser talents, in that position. It’s not chivalrous, I admit.”
“As Her Highness is no knight, she is under no obligation to chivalry,” Sire Cei conceded. “Yet . . . I do hope she stays her deadly hand, in Alshar. My poor duchy has suffered so much, already. It needs to lose n
o more.”
“She’s not bloodthirsty, just practical. And ruthless,” I conceded. “In Anguin’s current position, he will need both.”
“I understand. I just dislike it. There are times I feel the world would be better if it were governed by knights and ruled by chivalry. And then there are times that I realize that such rule would taint the very idea of chivalry.”
“So, do we even know where we’re going?” asked Dara, abruptly. “I know it’s Alshar, but what part?”
“It’s a surprise,” I said, apologetically, as Estret and Alya came back from the chapel, giggling. “I really have no idea. We should be getting word of what to do at any time, though.”
“I hope it isn’t cold,” grumbled Dara. “I’m really not dressed for that.”
“You’re a wizard, you can make adjustments.”
“I’m certain it is just some entertaining little Five Rivers estate that Lady Gatina decided was adequate to celebrate His Grace’s nuptials,” suggested Sire Cei. “There are many such little lodges situated near waterfalls, grottos, caverns, and other natural oddities around Vorone,” he explained. “If charm had a price at market, Vorone would have a monopoly.”
“It should be interesting,” Lady Estret agreed, taking her husband’s arm. “I know Lady Gatina only a little, but she seems a lady of great intelligence and wit. And terribly devoted to Sir Rondal,” she added.
“Devoted?” I snorted. “More like obsessed. If throwing a party for his liege will make Rondal like her more, then she’ll make it the best party in history to catch his fancy. Never underestimate what a girl will go through to impress a boy,” I said, glancing involuntarily toward Dara.
Master? Someone asked me, mind-to-mind. Tyndal, I realized.
Yes?
We’re ready, when you are. Come through on my personal Waystone, he suggested.
“All right,” I said, after a pause. “Tyndal says they’re ready. Shall we?”
“It doesn’t itch as bad, anymore,” Alya said, nodding.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Taking four other people through the Ways would have been a struggle, if I hadn’t had had the immense power of the Magolith and the paracletion of the Handmaiden to help. But we transitioned smoothly, and found ourselves in a painfully ornate chamber a moment later, along with Tyndal. Nor were we alone.
There were at least thirty people in the lavishly decorated chamber. I recognized several from previous occasions – Alshari courtiers, Count Marcadine, Baron Astyral, Baron Gydion, Pentandra and Arborn, Viscountess Threanas and Count Angrial. Anguin’s sisters, Lenara and Andine, were in beautiful festival gowns in the house colors for the occasion, and were being shepherded by Landather Amus.
Even Lady Pleasure, smirking up a storm in her guise as Baroness Amandice, had been invited. That, alone, made me suspicious. I wasn’t certain if the Baroness was currently the avatar of Ishi, but any time she was around, I got nervous.
There was a startled murmur from the assembled, when everyone saw Alya.
Her slow recovery was not general knowledge, and her sudden appearance caused a great deal of surprise. Alya took it in stride, waving weakly to everyone and nodding when people called her name. She took my arm protectively, and I was gratified to see Lady Estret take her other hand. I could tell she was nervous. She didn’t remember most of those who were excited to see her.
“Master!” Tyndal exclaimed, joyfully. “My lady! I’m so happy to see you looking hale!”
“And we are properly intrigued by this amusement, Sir Tyndal,” said Sire Cei, bowing. “Am I to understand that you are party to the secret?”
“Only recently, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “We were included in the planning very late. Not that Rondal or my efforts were required for such a . . . an elaborate celebration,” he added, cryptically. “Lady Gatina is uncommonly suited to seeing such an entertainment plotted from beginning to end, as you shall see.”
“I am as curious as anyone,” Pentandra said, eagerly. “She consulted me early in the process, for ideas, but I’m really eager to see what she has contrived. Is . . . is it a little warm, in here?” she asked, plucking at her mantle.
“I know only that Lady Gatina has asked a few strange favors from me, and no more,” admitted Arborn. “I have no idea what she’s planning.”
“I’m wondering where we are, exactly,” Lady Estret said, excitedly. “I do love a good surprise party! Magic makes everything a little better! And this chamber is lovely!”
“It’s not Sealgair Lodge,” Landfather Amus said, referring to the estate Anguin was using as a temporary capital in the Wilderlands, after the destruction of his palace. “Not enough stuffed and mounted trophies, for one thing. I just came from there. From the décor, it’s late period Alshari, probably around the time of the Black Duke,” the Court Chaplain reported. “It bears the mark of his first wife. There are few such places in the Wilderlands. That narrows the location.”
Before we could sort out exactly which little estate around Vorone we were in (propriety kept me from using magic to determine our location – that would ruin the surprise) our hostess appeared through the Ways, along with a dark-haired older woman, and her father. A moment later Rardine and Anguin appeared with Rondal.
“My lords and ladies,” Gatina began, looking incredibly delicate and feminine in her black gown, with her white hair spilling over her left shoulder in a delightful cascade. She wore an elaborate silver broach in the shape of a cat, the eyes of polished onyx.
“Your Highness, Your Grace, Your Excellencies,” the beautiful young woman continued, in a very theatrical voice. “I welcome you to this quiet, intimate celebration of Rardine and Anguin’s approaching wedding. May Ishi and Trygg bless their holy union and let it serve as a beacon of prosperity and abundance for all!” she said, to the cheers of all.
“I know you are all wondering just what amusing little entertainment I have in store for you, in token of this celebration,” Gatina continued, clearly enjoying the attention. “If you will follow me, I will be happy to relate the details as we travel. As this celebration is sponsored by my own humble house, I present my father, Lord Hance, and my mother, Lady Minnureal, as my co-hosts,” she continued, opening up a great double door. “Please follow us, as we lead you to the evening’s entertainment.
“When I considered what gift my proud but humble house could consider giving our noble Duke,” she said, as she led the crowd down the wide corridor, “I was perplexed. We are not as wealthy as a great house, nor is our contribution to the duchy measured in lands and estates. Our contributions tend to be more . . . subtle in nature,” she said, with a bow to her father.
“But, that being said, subtlety can be a profound thing, my lords and ladies, when used with wit and discretion. When I searched my intelligence and took counsel to discover an appropriately noble gift, the one thing I knew my liege desires above all others was the obvious choice.”
“But I have met my beloved wife already, Lady Gatina,” Anguin said, innocently. “What else could I desire above that?” It was the kind of “witty” banter that is the lifeblood of court. Of course, it elicited an appropriate titter from the crowd. One does not fail to acknowledge the public flirting of one’s liege.
“A noble secondary desire, then, Your Grace,” Gatina conceded with a courtesy to the Princess. “One would never deny Ishi her primacy in any young man’s heart. For those unaware,” she continued, without a stumble, “My ancestors were great . . . collectors. House Furtius has a reputation for acquiring certain items of a rare and precious nature . . . could it, mayhap, steal away with the one thing I knew Anguin prized, on the occasion of his betrothal?”
She was a good orator, I realized, able to spin a captivating tale with her voice and mannerisms. She coaxed every nuance of meaning from every word that escaped her lips, targeting them like arrows against the noble crowd. Young, striking Gatina had everyone enthralled, as she led us toward the distant doors
down the corridor. We barely knew where we were.
“I set my mind to see it done, once I made the decision to attempt it. I hired the right retainers to assist, took counsel amongst the wisest people I knew, and enlisted the assistance of my beloved mother and noble father,” she continued, with slight bows to both. They seemed to be in on the surprise. “It took months of planning, and no small expense.
“Yet no expense was too great to honor our noble Duke,” she said, as she beckoned us onward. “I hired eight hundred brave men, fresh from Sir Tyndal and Sir Rondal’s trials at Timberwatch, to assist in the task,” she reported. That was news. What did she need trained troops for? A particularly contentious trousseau? “Eight hundred favors for the party were commissioned from the elite enchanters of Sevendor. Eight hundred bronze collars, slave collars,” she continued, dramatically.
“Slave collars, my lady?” Viscountess Threanas asked, distastefully. “Just what manner of festivity is this?” I was starting to wonder, myself.
“Aye, collars of bronze indicating the basest servitude – the kind imposed at the point of a sword and endorsed by the hated Five Counts,” she agreed, sorrowfully.
“Is that really in the best of taste, my dear?” Threanas asked, skeptically.
“My lady shall be the judge,” Lady Gatina promised, unconcerned. “These collars were especially prepared, as were their bearers; for all eight hundred brave warriors of the Wilderlands volunteered to honor their Duke . . . by voluntarily adopting the hated things.
“For they had enlisted in Prince Tavard’s expedition to Enultramar,” she continued. “Though that was not their destination. Each man knew full well the fate that awaited him, and the deprivations he would have to endure for the honor of Alshar. All were willing to sacrifice their freedom and dignity for the task, when it was explained to them.”
“Dear gods, what did you have them do?” Lady Pleasure asked, scandalized.
“You shall see, my lady,” Gatina continued, unconcerned. “The captains of the ships they embarked upon knew well what the task was to be. For though they took sail in service to His Highness, they knew well the dangers they faced . . . and could be counted upon, in their treachery and mercenary spirit, to betray their passengers, change their sails, and sell them into bondage,” she said, her violet eyes wide and affecting alarm.
Necromancer: Book Ten Of The Spellmonger Series Page 115
