by Juliet Kemp
“Is there anything in particular we wish to bring up?” Marcia asked. “Or indeed to avoid?”
Madeleine shook her head. “Not to my knowledge. I do not believe there is any particular agenda here. I have had no warning from any of the other Heads.”
She might not, of course, if the Lord Lieutenant was stirring something up. The Thirteen Houses worked together some of the time, and very much otherwise at other times. But House Fereno had allies, and if anything peculiar were happening, Madeleine would likely have heard. Not that Marcia thought it was likely. This was just more of the required diplomatic dance.
In theory, Marek was part of Teren, ruled on behalf of the Teren throne, from Teren, by the Lord Lieutenant of Marek. In practice, due to its location at the far end of a river that wound through extremely inhospitable swampland from landlocked Teren to the Oval Sea, Marek was largely an independent city-state, run by the Thirteen Houses and, in theory, for the last ten years, the Guilds. Without Marek, it was nearly impossible for Teren, surrounded by steep mountains, to trade with any of its neighbours. The only easy route across to Exuria had been destroyed in a winter of landslides some three hundred years previously; that had prompted Rufus Marek and Eli Beckett to undertake the expedition towards the sea which discovered, right where the Teren River gave into the Oval Sea, the island of solid land on which Marek now stood. The expedition had been considering the matter of turning their river boats into sea-going ones, when a Salinas trader had come by and offered them excellent terms for trading across the Oval Sea. Appended to the offer was the strong suggestion that any ships sailing without the permission and support of the Salina were unlikely to have a successful voyage. The Salinas had been carrying Marek goods, along with goods from everywhere else around the Oval Sea, ever since. The near-disastrous events of Mid-Year this year had involved Madeleine and Gavin Leandra-Head attempting to disrupt that relationship and send Marek’s own ships out to trade directly; outright war had only just been averted.
So Teren relied on Marek, and the Teren Lord Lieutenant made an annual visit to both assert Teren’s theoretical authority, and reassure the Houses that Teren did not intend to use it. The current Lord Lieutenant, Selene, was new; the previous one had retired. Unusual, as he hadn’t been that elderly, and it was the sort of job that one held onto for life. Still. Doubtless Teren had its politics, the same as Marek; it hardly mattered.
There was a bustle of activity outside in the hall, signalling Selene’s arrival. A footman showed her in, and Madeleine and Marcia both stood to greet her. She was a short woman, somewhere between Marcia’s age and Madeleine’s, with dark hair wound in a complicated plait around her head, and skin a shade or two darker than Marcia’s own light brown. She wore a pale green dress, with elaborate embroidery of a type that Marcia recognised as originating in the Teren mountain villages – they traded it, occasionally, out to the Crescent cities, as decorative strips for fabric – and layers of flounces peeking out at the bottom.
“Fereno-Head,” she greeted Madeleine, “and Fereno-Heir,” turning to Marcia, touching the tips of her fingers to theirs in turn.
“Lord Lieutenant,” Madeleine said. “I am pleased to welcome you to our House.”
“I am grateful for your hospitality,” Selene said.
“Do come and sit down. Tea will be brought.”
Marcia contributed little to the relatively superficial conversation over tea: the weather, the trading lull at this time of the year while storms raged on the Oval Sea, the entertainments that Selene had been enjoying during her stay.
“And how are things in Ameten?” Madeleine asked. “It is many years since I visited. I remember it as a most pleasant place.”
“We are comfortable enough,” Selene said. “Although there has been… some unrest, of late, among the lower orders.”
Madeleine raised her eyebrows in polite enquiry.
“Radicals, you understand,” Selene said. “Printing sedition, making trouble in the factories. You know the sort.”
“Marek does not really have such difficulties,” Madeleine said.
“No?” Selene sounded… disbelieving?
She wasn’t entirely incorrect to disbelieve. Madeleine rarely – never, really – went over the other side of the river. Marcia did, and she saw the odd poster, or some of the more robust political newssheets hanging outside the stationers’ shops. Not many, though, and hardly anything she’d describe as ‘unrest’.
“The prosperity of Marek, the Houses and the Guilds,” Madeleine was saying, “means that Marekers have no need to agitate.” She waved a graceful hand. “The squats, for example. Housing for all. Food is plentiful. Marekers are content, and prosperous.”
Selene smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Marek is indeed fortunate. The Guilds, though…” She flicked a finger. “It is good of you to allow them to share in the success of the Houses, but surely it is the Houses, your good selves, who are the engine of this Marek prosperity? Who rightly, thus, hold the reins of Marek’s power?”
Madeleine’s face didn’t shift, and her tone stayed smooth. “The Guilds and the Houses work together, of course,” she said. “And the Guilds have their seats in the Council.”
“Of course, of course,” Selene said, in a tone that suggested that they were both conspiring in a public truth.
Had Selene been having this discussion with anyone else? Or, indeed, with Madeleine, in the quiet moments of one of those interminable evening dinners and entertainments?
“I do think,” Selene went on, “that it is a shame that the links between the Houses and Teren have been pulled thin of late. You were saying, you spent time in Ameten in your youth? But Fereno-Heir here has never been?”
“No,” Marcia agreed. “Perhaps one day.” She had no intention of going to Ameten, or anywhere else in Teren; she had plenty to do here.
“It is a shame to see the Mareker Houses leaving their estates to paid managers, and staying away from Ameten. Once there was a stronger link between us. I would love to rebuild that.” Selene paused, and took another cake, but didn’t bite into it. “Another link we have been building, in Ameten, is that between the court and the sorcerers. I find myself curious, as a result, as to the ways in which Marker magic differs from Teren magic.”
It was only with an effort that Marcia stilled her jerk.
“The Houses have nothing to do with that,” Madeleine said dismissively. “We do not use magic on Marekhill, you understand.”
A sore subject for Madeleine; she had disowned Marcia’s brother Cato when he refused to abandon his magic. But even without that – the Houses did not engage with magic, nor, if they could possibly avoid it, so much as acknowledge its existence. Surely Selene knew that already?
“But I understood that one of your own children – Cato? – was a sorcerer.”
This time Marcia saw Madeleine’s jaw tense. “I have no sorcerer child,” she said, flatly.
“Ah,” Selene said. “I apologise. I must have misunderstood. But in any case – in Teren, sorcery is very risky, and operated only in service of the government, and at the sufferance of the government. Here, it seems, magic and politics do not mix? And yet magic is wholly safe. I am deeply curious about the difference.”
Marcia knew quite a lot about the difference, as it happened, both from helping Marek’s fallen cityangel during the events of Mid-Year, and from the fact that her girlfriend – if that was the right word to use – was a sorcerer. But Madeleine would have a fit if she said anything about any of it here.
Madeleine looked caught between her desire to slap Selene down, her desire not to even think about magic, and her obligation to be polite to the Teren Lieutenant.
“As you say,” Marcia said, taking over. “Magic and politics do not mix, here in Marek. The Houses, Marekhill – we do not engage with this superstition.”
She sent up a silent apology to Reb, Cato, and, somewhat uncomfortably, to Beckett themself, at her dismissal.
> “Superstition?” Selene asked. “But yet – surely, magic is very real.”
Madeleine twitched.
“Magic does not occur on Marekhill,” Marcia said. “I am aware that Teren uses it, but we do not. If magic occurs in the rest of the city, well, that is their own affair.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to explicitly dismiss the cityangel as superstition.
“Spirits and cityangels. Nonsense for the other side of the river,” Madeleine said, waving a hand.
Madeleine’s outright dismissal seemed – shortsighted, given that Selene had just been talking about Teren’s use of spirit-magic. Madeleine was very close to calling Selene herself superstitious.
Selene tipped her head slightly to one side, evidently aware of the curious double-think that was going on here. It wasn’t that Marekhill folk really thought that magic didn’t exist. It was that as they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, use it, they had to dismiss it outright. Which was, of course, exactly what Marcia was going to have to overcome if she wanted Reb to join the Council.
Selene was about to say something. Marcia would have to jump in.
“As my mother says,” she said, a little apologetically, “it is not something that is discussed on Marekhill. Would you like another biscuit? And I have been looking at the embroidery on your dress – one of the mountain villages, no? It is beautiful work.”
Selene, thankfully, took the hint, and she and Marcia moved the conversation on to embroidery, the Broderers’ Guild, and trade with the Crescent cities, while Madeleine recovered from her half-offence. After which she was deeply, almost excessively, gracious through the rest of the tea. But Marcia was certain that Selene hadn’t just brought the matter up out of idle curiosity, and she wanted to know what was going on.
When Selene went to rise, Marcia contrived to escort her into the hallway, leaving Madeleine behind in the reception room.
“Sorcery is something of an unpleasant topic for my mother,” she said, apologetically, as the footman helped Selene with her shawl. “And, indeed, most of Marekhill would consider it inappropriate. I do apologise. However, I would be happy to give you some information, if you would care to meet on another occasion?”
Madeleine would be furious, but then, there was no need for Madeleine to know.
“That would be most helpful,” Selene said. “I would be delighted to have more opportunity to talk with you, in general.”
“You may wish to know that most other Heads would react similarly, with regard to sorcery,” Marcia warned her. Although surely she must know that already; could this really be the first time she’d mentioned it? In which case… why, and why now?
Selene nodded. “I see. I thank you for the information, and will endeavour not to cause further insult. But you are willing to discuss it? Excellent. I will send a note – a message, as you call them here – when I can consult my clerk about my availability.”
“By all means,” Marcia said, bowing. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
She wanted to know what it was that Selene hadn’t said about magic in Teren; sharing what she knew about magic in Marek would be well worth the trade.
k k
“Well, that was interesting,” Madeleine said when Marcia walked back into the drawing room. “The Guilds, the links with Teren… Your thoughts, Marcia?”
Madeleine used to do this when Marcia was younger, challenging her to draw her own conclusions about something they’d both seen. For her to do it once more felt like the beginnings of rebuilding their connection.
“Thinking about it, she’s made those points before, but much more subtly,” Marcia said, sitting back down opposite her mother. “So either she thinks we are open to less subtlety, or something has changed in Teren such that she feels the need to push harder.” Marcia considered the matter. Her mother nodded without comment, encouraging her to go on. “Perhaps – she talked about unrest, didn’t she? I wonder if perhaps it is a little more serious than she suggested.”
“News-sheets and gutter radicals,” Madeleine said, with a roll of her eyes. “Really?”
“Perhaps not,” Marcia said. “But – she obviously seeks House support, and I think she was genuine in her desire to strengthen the links between Teren and Marek. There must be a reason for that.”
“Teren relies on us for trade, and we are far more prosperous,” Madeleine said. “Perhaps she simply wishes to secure better deals.”
“She’s new. Maybe it’s not about Teren, or Ameten, or their Archion. Maybe she’s just seeking to improve her own position.”
“Possible,” Madeleine conceded, “but that works only if those back in Ameten see a closer relationship as necessary, or desirable. Was there a reason for changing the Lord Lieutenant, or did the last one really just retire?” She paused. “Do they – does she – think that something might be about to change? Or wish to make a change?”
“You mean,” Marcia said, “is she, or is Teren, worried that we want to pull more formally away from Teren? Or want us to come back under direct government?”
Madeleine shook her head, her eyes thoughtfully narrowed. “Direct government would be a stretch. It is a long time since that was the case. But… it is true that we are less close with Teren, with those ruling in Ameten, than we once were. Perhaps Teren has become uncomfortable about where that might be leading. Or perhaps Selene merely sees a change in that relationship as one which would enhance her reputation in Ameten. We will keep our minds open.” She nodded slowly to herself, then sat back, and turned her gaze on Marcia. “Now. Marcia. Selene mentioned the Guilds, which is convenient, as you have spent a great deal of time talking to the Guilds, of late.”
“Yes?” Marcia said. She didn’t really want to get into this unless she had to. “I have been liaising with the Jewellers’ over this expedition, of course.”
Madeleine frowned at her. “Not just the Jewellers, no. All of the Guilds. Please don’t insult my intelligence, Marcia.”
Marcia tried not to react. If Madeleine had noticed, had anyone else?
“I have put off any other enquiries into your behaviour,” Madeleine said. So Marcia hadn’t been as subtle as she’d thought, then. Dammit. “We have been seeking new contracts, you understand. But. As the price for my discretion, I wish to know what you are up to.” For a moment, she sounded almost like she had when Marcia was a little girl, getting into trouble with Cato, back before he was Cato. Or, often, being got into trouble by him. It was simultaneously annoying – Marcia wasn’t nine any more – and reassuring.
Marcia took a deep breath. “That thing you said. About the Guilds and the Houses working together.”
“Go on.”
“The Houses hold the power.” She looked over at Madeleine, but Madeleine wasn’t reacting. “Thirteen seats to ten, and the Small Chamber is being used more often.”
“Mmm.”
“The Guilds don’t like it. I know that. We haven’t spoken, I haven’t spoken, directly of it, but… they say things. Imply things. And,” Marcia paused. This was the crux. This was her committing herself to an opinion, an opinion that she very much doubted Madeleine shared. “I don’t think it’s fair, either.”
“Fair,” Madeleine said disdainfully.
Marcia grimaced. Of course Madeleine didn’t care about ‘fair’, and wouldn’t be impressed by Marcia worrying about it. “I don’t think it makes for prosperity, then. For us, or for Marek.”
“We’ve worked with the Guilds for centuries,” Madeleine said. “And then we gave them Council seats. They should be pleased.” Madeleine had been involved in bringing the Guilds into the Council. She might well be taking this personally. “They should be grateful.” Yes, she was definitely taking this personally.
“Yes, Mother, they have Council seats. But what they got is not what they expected,” Marcia said. She could empathise. “Especially with the Small Council taking more and more power. It’s not just that they’re outvoted in anything touching on House matters, it’s that they’r
e not even being consulted. Nearly always, if someone proposes moving something to Small Council, the Houses all vote together.”
“Nearly always,” Madeleine scoffed. “Nonsense.” But her eyes slid away from Marcia’s.
Marcia cursed herself for not having accurate numbers to hand, but there was no point in getting caught up in that. She had to keep going. “There’s unrest, Mother. Not the sort of unrest Selene was talking about in Teren, but dissatisfaction. And eventually, it will cause problems. Dissatisfied people are not open to good trades. Dissatisfaction with your partners poisons the well.”
“And you have a solution.”
“More seats on the Council for the Guilds,” Marcia said.
“Hmm,” Madeleine said. Which was better than the outright flat denial Marcia had expected at the start of this conversation. “How many seats?”
“It has to be three, if we’re to do it at all,” Marcia said.
“And a casting vote,” Madeleine said. She tapped one finger on her knee. “Well. It is an interesting proposal, and I do see the outline of your point. But I disagree. The Guilds have plenty of power, and it has only been a very short while since they were brought onto the Council. I would not support another change so rapidly, and I very much doubt that any of the other Heads would. Bringing the Guilds in was hardly popular in the first place. But…” She stopped, and sighed. “But you will be Head in due course, and perhaps, in due course, this would be a suitable change, if you wish to champion it. But… slowly, you understand? Slowly and carefully. It might take years to win people gently over to your point of view. Just as when we brought the Guilds onto the Council in the first place.”
Marcia noticed that Madeleine didn’t mention the flat-out bribe they’d used to bring the Guilds in: the removal of the time limit on Headship of a House.
“Years,” Marcia said, in dismay.
“Patience,” Madeleine counselled. “Move slowly. For now, I would like to see a full report on your arguments, your aims, and your methods of approach. And any alliances you have gained so far.”
