Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses) (28 page)

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Authors: Sharon Shinn

BOOK: Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses)
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Jasper sat forward, quickly moved a line of shields, and leaned back again. “I’m sorry you find my conversation tiresome,” he said pleasantly. “I confess Karryn finds me bewildering as well.”
 
 
Zellin was scowling; Wen guessed Jasper’s game strategy had surprised him. “And I still don’t understand why you’ve been installed at Fortune,” he said, harking back to his observation over dinner. “Obviously Serephette isn’t fit to be a guardian for a serramarra, but you—” He shook his head.
 
 
Jasper said, very softly, “I was chosen by the royal consort.”
 
 
That made Zellin look up again. “What?”
 
 
“Much like the serlords, a handful of Thirteenth House nobles from Fortunalt were summoned to Ghosenhall shortly after the war. Amalie had decided that the heirs of Fortunalt and Gisseltess needed someone to tend them until they turned twenty-one since their fathers had died in the conflict. In Gisseltess, of course, the young serramar had their mother to guide them—”
 
 
“And Nate Brassenthwaite,” Zellin spit out. “Once the marlady was misguided enough to marry
him.
”
 
 
“But, as you say, Serephette does not inspire people with the utmost confidence in her ability to manage an estate. The queen was looking for a guardian who could oversee the region until Karryn attains her majority.” He paused for effect, though Zellin’s attention was back on the board. “Cammon is the one who interviewed me. Like you, I was amazed at his youth and his boyish manner. But unlike you, I was impressed at his thoughtfulness and insights. I thought him an extraordinary young man, to tell you the truth. I would not like him to make a judgment against me—I imagine it would be implacable.”
 
 
Zellin was ranging his soldiers along a previously undefended border. “Well, he judged in favor of you, I suppose, and here you are,” he said without interest.
 
 
“Yes,” said Jasper. “Here I am.”
 
 
Zellin studied his position for a moment, nodded, and said, “It’s your turn.”
 
 
Again, Jasper made a swift, unconsidered move, and Zellin gave him a look of bafflement.
 
 
“Have you ever
attempted
this game before?” the serlord demanded. “Your strategy is lunatic.”
 
 
“I am trying a new style of play tonight,” Jasper replied. “But I confess, I’m distracted by a raging thirst. Willa, could you see if Bryce is near enough to send for refreshments?”
 
 
Bryce, of course, was too young to be up this late
or
trusted with carrying trays full of delicate glassware, but Wen went to the door and found Bryce lurking outside. He was dressed in a small jacket that must have been cut down from a footman’s discarded uniform, and a pearl-sewn sash made a bright slash across his chest. Nonetheless, he was yawning as he slumped against the wall, waiting to be called.
 
 
Wen repressed a smile and said, “My lord has asked you to bring refreshments.”
 
 
That filled him with energy, and he dashed off. He returned moments later bearing a tray of wine and after-dinner sweets. Jasper had pulled up a second table near the cruxanno board and watched in some amusement as Bryce slowly lowered his burden, spilling nothing.
 
 
“Excellent, Bryce,” Jasper said. “You will make a fine footman someday.”
 
 
“Thank you, my lord,” Bryce said.
 
 
“You can see he’s an unusual boy,” Jasper said, now addressing Zellin, who had not, in fact, shown any signs of noticing Bryce at all. “A mystic, though you profess not to believe in them.”
 
 
That did make the serlord glance up, give Bryce one sweeping and unimpressed inspection, and return his attention to the game board. “He tells you that, I suppose.”
 
 
“No, he proves it! Come, Bryce, let’s show this skeptic what a reader like you is capable of.”
 
 
“I am not interested in demonstrations, thank you all the same.”
 
 
“Oh, this is very quick and most eye-opening, I assure you.” Jasper picked up his small jeweled crown from the board—the most valuable piece in the game—and tossed it from hand to hand. “Look away,” he commanded Bryce, who obediently turned around. “Really, Zellin, watch this. You’ll be amazed. Which hand am I holding the crown in?”
 
 
“Your left.”
 
 
Jasper switched hands. “And now?”
 
 
“Your right.”
 
 
Jasper settled the crown in the middle of his graying brown hair. “And now?”
 
 
Bryce laughed. “It’s on top of your head.”
 
 
Jasper tilted his chin and caught the game piece as it slid off his forehead. “You see?” he said to Zellin. “He is never wrong.”
 
 
“How can you possibly expect me to be impressed by such a bit of foolery?” Zellin demanded. “You could have rehearsed that before I arrived. That’s hardly any proof of magic.”
 
 
“You try it,” Jasper said. He handed over his crown as carelessly as if it hadn’t been the object of all Zellin’s plotting for the last half hour. “Tell him when you’re ready for him to speak.”
 
 
Zellin sighed in irritation, closed his fingers over the crown and said, “Tell me, then.”
 
 
“Your right hand, my lord.”
 
 
“You see?” said Jasper.
 
 
“A lucky guess.”
 
 
“Try it ten times over and see how lucky he is.”
 
 
Grumbling and rolling his eyes, Zellin did so, and his frown actually grew blacker every time Bryce was correct. On the ninth try, he silently handed the game piece back to Jasper, then focused his suspicious eyes on Bryce’s shoulders.
 
 
“Lord Jasper has it now,” Bryce said confidently.
 
 
Jasper laughed and negligently flicked the piece up in the air, catching it in his right hand. “Enough of a demonstration for you?” he said. “It’s a startling sort of magic, isn’t it? And, of course, Bryce’s abilities are insignificant compared to Cammon’s.”
 
 
Zellin looked angry, but also a little discomfited. Wen imagined he was thinking back to his audience with Cammon and feeling just a little uneasy about what he might have revealed, all unknowing. “It doesn’t matter,” he said defiantly. “I have nothing to conceal.”
 
 
Jasper nodded toward the door. “Thank you, Bryce. Off to bed with you now, I think.” He waited until Wen had shut the door behind the boy, and then he turned back to Jasper. “Nothing to conceal?” he repeated in a pleasant voice. “I suppose your son does not confide in you, then.”
 
 
Wen tensed and straightened, her hands moving closer to her weapons. After an evening of meandering and innocuous conversation, it appeared Jasper was suddenly ready to open battle with a heavy salvo.
 
 
“Tover?” Zellin said in blank surprise. “I suppose he has secrets from me, as any young man might, but—What are you saying, Paladar?”
 
 
“Karryn identified him as the man who abducted her, intent on marrying her to gain the title of marlord.”
 
 
“That’s a lie!” Zellin roared, coming to his feet with a dagger in his hand. Wen flew to his side, knocking him in the chest so hard that he tripped over his chair and fell heavily to the floor. His dagger skittered away to land against a bookcase near the far wall. Moss, as prearranged, had dashed over to defend Jasper. Wen stood over Zellin, her own knife drawn, ready to inflict real damage if he made another offensive move.
 
 
“Call off your guard,” Zellin snarled, giving Wen an ugly look but making no effort to rise. “But if you don’t withdraw your accusation against my son, I’ll have your blood. And I mean it.”
 
 
“Willa, let him get up and take his chair,” Jasper said. He waited until Zellin was seated, Wen hovering mere inches away, before he added, “But I do not recant my statement. Tover kidnapped Karryn. He was assisted by a large, bald, brutish man named Darvis—I see by your expression that you recognize the description. They appeared to be carrying her northwest from Forten City. You have property in that corner of the region, do you not?”
 
 
“You lie,” Zellin said. But Wen thought he was shaken. “Your ward has set herself to ruin my son. If you publicly accuse him, I will ruin
you
. Don’t think I can’t.”
 
 
“I have very little that you can take away from me, so I am not particularly worried,” Jasper replied. “But you might notice that I have not, so far, said a word against your son to anyone, not even Karryn’s mother. I have no desire to cast aspersions on the whole rank of serlords, so new to their positions and fighting so hard for acceptance from both the Twelfth and Thirteenth Houses. I will not embarrass you by calling him to account—but I require you to do so.”
 
 
“What do you expect of me?” Zellin said gruffly.
 
 
“Cast him off,” Jasper said. “I do not know who your next heir is, but there should be a formal announcement that Tover is passed over—though you need not name the reasons.”
 
 
Zellin stiffened in his chair. “I will not do it,” he said. “Not on so little evidence. I will ask him, and if he admits it, then I will consider what you say, but I—”
 
 
“I will take my case to Ghosenhall,” Jasper said calmly. “I will lay the matter before Cammon and ask him to adjudicate. No doubt he will summon you and your son immediately to the royal city.” He gestured at the door. “You saw how easily Bryce was able to read your actions, and he is just a small boy with a modest amount of magic. Cammon will be able to read your soul—and your son’s soul. Tover is no longer your heir, Zellin. Either you make that decision, for reasons you need not disclose, or the crown will make it, and possibly publish the reason. Those are your only two options.”
 
 
Very neatly done!
Wen thought with real admiration. It reminded her irresistibly of the game strategy she had employed in her own cruxanno competition with Jasper. Spin out the game interminably, lay out all the pieces in a manner that seemed completely random, and then, with a single move, destroy the unprepared opponent. Zellin could fight and lose, or he could surrender and save some dignity. He could not win.
 
 
“I will speak to my son,” Zellin ground out. His hands were clenched upon the armrests of the chair; Wen saw his nails bite through the tapes-tried fabric. “If he admits what you tell me is true—then I will disinherit him. But if you speak of this to another living soul—”
 
 
“Only the crown,” Jasper said. “And only if necessary.” He seemed to be struck by a new thought. “Oh—and if Tover attempts any such course of action again, with my ward or any young woman, I will, of course, be compelled to speak up.” He smiled at Zellin. “But I am sure you have ways to ensure that Tover never has the liberty or means to behave in such a fashion again.”
 
 
“Yes,” Zellin snapped, “you can be sure I know how to control my son.”
 
 
“Well, then,” Jasper said, reaching for one of the bottles of wine. “Shall we refresh ourselves? All this talk has made me thirsty.”
 
 
Keeping a wary eye on Wen, Zellin came slowly to his feet. “No wine for me, Paladar,” he said. “And no more cruxanno, either. It is too late to call for my carriage, or I would not even spend the rest of this night under your roof. I will be gone in the morning before you rise and I hope not to see you again anytime in the near future. You
or
your ward,” he added.
 
 
Without another word, he stalked straight for the door. Wen had to follow him, of course, for it was clear to her that he could not be left unguarded for the rest of his stay in the house; no doubt she would be spending the night dozing in the hall outside his bedroom. But at the door, she briefly turned to give Jasper one quick, appraising look, all her wonder and admiration visible on her face. He caught her expression and grinned, exultant as a boy who had won his first game of skill against a much older and more seasoned opponent.

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