Above His Proper Station (41 page)

Then the black door of the town house opened, and Lord Dorias stepped out.

He was wearing his best wine-colored coat over a cloth-of-gold vest. His graying hair was pulled back in a braid, and crowned with a black hat with a feathered cockade. His badge of office as burgrave of Alzur hung on his chest, supported by a heavy gold chain around his neck. This was not the attire he would wear to speak to his errant nephew; this was the formal garb of an official of the Walasian Empire.

He stopped on the uppermost of the three granite steps and looked down at his visitors.

“My lord,” Anrel said with a bow. He made a hasty gesture at his waist to the Lirs, who both reacted by bowing as well, a little belatedly.

“Master Murau,” Lord Dorias said.

“I trust Mistress Tazia Lir has explained the situation to you?”

“She has told me that you have some mad scheme to spirit us all off to Quand, abandoning the empire to the mob.”

Anrel's heart sank. “My lord,” he said, “dear uncle, we do indeed have an opportunity to escape the capital in the company of Lord Blackfield.”

“And why should we want to
escape
?” Dorias demanded. “What is there to escape
from
? I am a nobleman of the empire, a sorcerer, and the burgrave of Alzur. Why would I want to flee the very
capital
of the empire?”

“Because, my lord, the capital has fallen into the hands of a group of conspirators within the Grand Council who have used the discontented populace to seize power. They have the support of the burgrave of Lume, and have obtained access to the Great List. They have your
true name,
my lord.”

Lord Dorias frowned at him.

“Why would they have
my
true name?” he demanded. “I have done nothing to displease the mob, or to cause the emperor to reveal my name.”

“Let us hope you are right, my lord, that you have done nothing to displease the people of Lume, but I fear you misjudge their temper. They are in no mood to extend the benefit of any doubt, and you are known to be a friend of Lord Allutar, who many deem responsible in large part for the worst ravages of the famine that has left the children of the city crying for bread. Indeed, your daughter, my cousin, is betrothed to the landgrave of Aulix. I am also told you tried to prevent the people of Alzur from burning Lord Allutar's house. I believe it likely that these will be seen as sufficient crimes to see you dragged before a tribunal.”

“We have done nothing that would cause us to fear a tribunal,” Lord Dorias insisted. “And in any case, the emperor would scarcely consider such charges sufficient cause to open the Great List to my name!”

“Alas, the emperor has allowed the Committee for the Regulation of Sorcery free access to the entirety of the Great List. Indeed, I myself was brought to the palace to assist in copying names from it. I distorted those I could, but your name, Uncle, was given to another to record, and I could not prevent its accurate transcription.”

“
What?
”

“It is as I have said. The Committee for the Regulation of Sorcery has recorded the true names of almost every sorcerer in the empire.”

Shaken for the first time, Lord Dorias asked plaintively, “Why would the emperor allow that?”

“Because he has been promised the confiscated estates of anyone the tribunals might convict of treason, and assured that these estates can be used to pay his debts.” Anrel was tempted to add that the emperor had made a stupendously foolish bargain, but resisted. This was not the time and place to argue the wisdom of His Imperial Majesty's actions.

For a moment, Lord Dorias stared silently at Anrel. Then he said, “What evidence do you have for this fantastic tale? How am I to know this is not all some elaborate lie you have concocted to lure me from my home? If this conspiracy you describe does in fact exist, how am I to know that you are not a
part
of it, hoping to lead me into a trap? Or it could be something far less than that—it might be you are in league with ordinary thieves, who will loot my house once I leave it unguarded. You have certainly demonstrated repeatedly in the course of this past year that you are a criminal and not to be trusted. For that matter, if it
is
true, why would you be here, attempting to aid me? You have scarcely shown any concern for my welfare of late!”

“You are my uncle, my lord. You are the man who took me in when my parents died, and who raised me to manhood. You paid for my education, and saw to it that I wanted for nothing. Whatever strife there may be between us, we are bound by blood, and I owe you a great debt that I cannot ignore. Were I to not do my best to see you to safety, I could not live with myself.”

Lord Dorias drew himself up to his full height. “Do not claim to be bound by any sense of honor, Anrel Murau,” he declaimed, “for I know you have none!”

Anrel winced. “I am profoundly sorry that you believe that, my lord.”

Dorias glared at him, then finally turned his attention to the two women. “Who are these people?” he asked. “What happened to her face?”

Anrel glanced at Nivain. “This is Mistress Nivain Lir, my lord; she is the mother of my beloved Tazia. And this is Nivain's youngest daughter, Perynis.”

“Step forward, woman,” Lord Dorias said to Nivain, beckoning.

With a glance at Anrel, Nivain took a step forward.

“Do
you
know whether there is a word of truth in my nephew's story?” Lord Dorias demanded.

“I …” She threw a quick look at Perynis, then at Anrel, then turned back to the sorcerer. “I do not know, my lord,” she said. “I have known Master Murau for some time, and I have thought him to be a good man, but I know nothing of councils or lists.”

“Then why are you here with him?”

Nivain touched the bruise on her cheek. “My husband did this to me, my lord,” she said. “Master Murau has offered me a way to escape from him, to go to a place where he cannot go. I am not concerned with politics or tribunals, but I would like to start a new life in Quand.”

“A fair enough answer,” Dorias said. He turned to Perynis. “And you? Are you simply doing as your mother bids you?”

“No, my lord,” Perynis said. “I have my own reasons for wanting to go to Quand—and they are mine, and not your concern.”

Lord Dorias frowned. “And you know nothing of plots and politics, I suppose?”

“I know that we saw a warden and his deputies dragging a sorcerer through the streets today, on their way to only the Father knows where. That was before my mother joined us.”

Dorias blinked. “Did you, indeed?”

“Yes, my lord.”

For a moment the sorcerer stared at her; then he turned his attention back to Anrel. “It would seem that there may be some kernel of truth in your tale,” he admitted. “Or perhaps this young woman is an accomplice?” He shook his head. “Even if there
is
some truth in it, though, why is it so very urgent that you have come here, have sent that young woman to coerce me into seeing you? What need is there to hurry? Perhaps Saria and I would be well advised to leave Lume, but I see no reason to rush off with that confounded Quandishman.”

“My lord,” Anrel said, “the gates have been closed, and no Walasian is to be permitted to leave the city. Foreigners are being sent away, and have been ordered to be outside the walls by sunset. Concealing ourselves in Lord Blackfield's coach may be our only chance to get out.”

Lord Dorias grimaced, then looked from Anrel to Nivain to Perynis. Then he said, “I don't believe you.”

“My lord…!”

“I don't believe you,” Dorias repeated. “The gates closed? On whose orders? No, this is some trick of yours, Anrel. You seek to kidnap me, perhaps—have you gambling debts that you need my ransom to pay?”

“Uncle Dorias, I swear on my soul—”

“Do not profane yourself any further, Anrel. I will not listen.” He turned his back on his nephew. “I will send your wench out, and the lot of you can go to Quand, or to the Mystery Lands, or to perdition, for all I care.”

And with that, he vanished into the house and slammed the door.

33

In Which the Players Gather

Anrel stared at the closed door, struggling to control himself as rage and despair seethed in his breast.

“You tried,” Perynis said.

Anrel bit his lip, holding back an angry outburst. His mouth twisted. “At least the coach will not be as crowded,” he said sourly. Then he shook his head. “But no, I cannot give up. I must
make
him listen to reason—if not for his own sake, then for Saria's.”

“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.