The Queen of Mages (7 page)

But she was not going to let Amira out of
her sight until the girl learned to restrain herself. Not that she
could stop Amira from using this strange power of hers, but maybe
Katin’s presence would remind Amira to be more careful.

The temple’s long entryway led past the
usual altars to the sacred circle beyond. Her lady knelt down at
the altar of Despair, clasping her hands on the edge of the stone,
almost touching the little statue of the mouse. Katin stood back a
ways, watching. There was no one else present, not even the
steward. He was probably in the privy.

Katin listened for a while as Amira
whispered to herself.
She probably chose Despair to make me feel
bad,
Katin groused.
I’d pray if there was an Aspect of
Slapping Sense into People.

The steward appeared a few minutes later,
bowing when he saw them but otherwise leaving them undisturbed,
much to Katin’s relief. She’d sought help from Niderines when she
was a child, but the priests never had more to offer than
comforting words and prayers. How were prayers supposed to feed an
empty belly?

Eventually Amira stood up, wiping her eyes.
They were red, Katin saw, but now she had a look of determination
and marched straight out the door. Amira said nary a word for the
rest of the day’s ride, but her dejection had vanished, and she
stared clear-eyed out the window as the coach rolled along.

———

They reached Callaston two days later.
Amira’s mood had thawed a bit by then, and Katin was able to make
some conversation with her, for which she felt grateful. In the
silence Katin had started to feel an unbearable loneliness.

The house servants all fussed over Amira
from the instant she stepped out of the coach. Katin let them,
keeping her distance. Amira was her closest friend, but she was
becoming something else as well. Something disquieting.

She helped Amira settle in, then went over
the letters that had arrived in their absence. A few dinner
invitations, and several from gentlemen who wished to accompany
Amira to the royal ball. She took them to Amira, who flipped
through them. “Ugh. No. No. Oh, here’s Count Vondulian again. I’m
surprised that old prune wasn’t camped on the doorstep when we
arrived. Will he never give up?”

“Some men cherish the chase,” Katin
said.

They had not been home an hour when Countess
Besiana Tarian’s
vala
showed up with an invitation to
luncheon the next day.

“The woman pounces the moment I return,”
Amira said.

“You’ve put her off long enough, m’lady. It
won’t do to make enemies of the neighbors.”

Amira sighed. “Fine. One more tedious
introduction won’t kill me. Let’s meet this son of hers.”

Liam tried not to wince as Dardan repeatedly
stumbled over his own words. The young lord had made half a dozen
sallies at describing Hedenham County to this Lady Amira, and each
time, he said the wrong word, or got caught up in irrelevant
details, or simply trailed off awkwardly. Liam had seen Dardan
tongue-tied with a pretty girl before, but this was agonizing.

“They seem to be getting along,” Liam
murmured politely, leaning against the wall of the Tarians’ sitting
room. Lady Amira’s
vala
hummed dubiously and did not return
his glance. She was quite focused, this Katin Berisha, closely
watching both Dardan and Amira.

Luncheon had been served out in the Tarians’
garden, a fine meal of sautéed greens, fresh-baked rosemary bread,
grilled pheasant, mushroom bisque, and herb-encrusted pork loin.
Liam and Katin had, for a wonder, been invited to join the nobles
at the table. The countess no doubt wanted to ensure that even
Amira’s
vala
would approve of the Tarians. After luncheon,
the party had retreated inside so that the eligible lord and lady
might converse and get to know one another better. Protocol did not
demand Liam’s attendance here, but he was not about to miss his
master’s first meet with a prospective wife. Katin clearly shared
his interest, which spoke well of her. Any
vala
who would
leave her lady’s side in such a situation was no
vala
worth
having.

At least out in the garden, Dardan had not
had to speak much. Besiana had been happy to blather while everyone
else ate. But now it was Dardan’s turn, and he was fumbling it
badly.

Liam could quite understand. Amira was even
more beautiful than Besiana had insisted. Liam had stared at her
for a moment when she came into their foyer, then made himself look
away, feigning indifference. Dardan, however, had gaped at her for
several seconds before remembering himself and bowing over the
lady’s hand. Later, when Besiana and Amira were distracted with
chattering, Dardan had caught Liam’s eye with an expression of
utter disbelief. Amira, even in her demure, high-necked powder blue
dress, drew every eye. Even disagreeable old Bertram’s jaw had gone
slack when he saw her.

But it was Amira’s
vala
who drew
Liam’s eye. Katin was young and slim, and pretty, though in a much
more conventional way than her lady. Her hair was a dull brown, and
her smiles were tight and never reached her eyes. She reminded Liam
of a doe, lonely in the woods and fearing danger behind every tree.
He silently cursed his distractedness and tried to focus on the
nobles.

Besiana sat across from the young couple,
eyes twinkling. Liam could tell she was fighting to keep her mouth
shut. As well she did; the whole point was to observe Amira and her
son, to begin to gauge whether they could make a suitable couple.
Liam had watched one such meet several months ago, between Dardan
and a baron’s daughter, that had ended with them arguing angrily
with one another. Dardan had been horribly embarrassed, but Count
Asmus (and, less openly, Liam) had found it highly amusing and
cracked jokes about it the rest of the day.

Now Liam had only pity, and hoped someone
would put an end to this soon. Amira, for her part, did not seem
openly repulsed by Dardan’s verbal ineptitude. She knew just how to
flatter Dardan, responding with subtle compliments on his skills at
riding, hunting, leadership. After a while Liam began to wonder if
she was trying to fluster him on purpose.

Besiana had prepared them with what she had
learned about Amira. The lady had married Valmir Estaile, a wealthy
merchant, only a little more than a year earlier. He’d found her in
some city out to the west, Bridger’s Rush or Cleavesport or
somewhere; it was unclear. She had apparently been a merchant’s
daughter. A month after returning to Callaston, King Viktor had
granted Valmir peerage, raising him to the lowest level of the
nobility. No lands, just a title, but still, any man would find it
a great honor. Amira, as his wife, automatically became a noble as
well. The reason for the peerage was also unclear, though Besiana
had heard rumors of “special services” rendered to the crown,
whatever that meant.

Then Valmir had died abruptly this winter
past, after a short illness. Even though he’d been Amira’s senior
by a good fifteen years, he’d had no children anyone knew of, not
with Amira or any other woman, and so by law all his holdings
passed to her.

From unwed common girl to wealthy lady of
the realm in just over a year… She was either extraordinarily
lucky, or exceedingly devious. Liam was inclined to be a little
suspicious based on the story alone, but now that he’d met her, he
could hardly believe her capable of such treachery.

After some time, Amira pleaded exhaustion.
“I did return from my trip only yesterday,” she explained, “and I’m
afraid my reserves are quite drained.” When she stood, Dardan
practically leapt to his feet to take her hand. Liam came to his
master’s side, and Katin to her lady’s.

Dardan’s mouth worked for a moment. “My
lady, I have had a great pleasure—that is, it has been my
pleasure—a pleasure to meet you. I, um…” He trailed off, casting
about as if someone might step in and save him.

Besiana coughed a little. “The ball…”

“Mother,” Dardan muttered.

“Indeed?” Amira asked, looking amused.

Liam could not help himself. “I believe
m’lord said he meant to ask m’lady something.”

Dardan gulped. He was trapped and he knew
it. Liam could barely contain his glee. “My lady Amira… would
you—would you consider attending the ball? With you? I mean—the
royal summer ball, with me?”

A sheen of sweat glistened on the young
lord’s forehead. That he had asked the question was a miracle in
itself; he didn’t even want to go to the ball, the fool. Besiana
looked pleased as punch.

“Well,” Amira said, glancing at the countess
for a moment before returning her attention to Dardan. “As you were
so courageous in asking, how could I say no?”

“What?” Katin blurted out, stunned.

“Really?” Besiana said, equally surprised.
“I mean… really, how delightful!” She clapped her hands.

Dardan’s jaw simply hung open. After a few
seconds he blinked a few times. “Um… thank you?”

“Not at all,” Amira said. “This will be my
first time at the ball. I’m sure you’ll be able to show me
everything.” She bowed to the countess and swept out of the room.
Katin followed close behind, glowering at everyone.

Liam was going to have to get Dardan
very
drunk tonight.

———

“That was a cruel trick,” Dardan said as he
held his arms out. The wizened little tailor scampered from one
side to the other, measuring the cut of Dardan’s half-finished new
suit and marking adjustments here and there.

“Woe betide m’lord, he who must attend the
greatest feast in the kingdom with the most beautiful woman in the
realm.” Liam snorted.

“You and my mother planned that, didn’t
you?”

“I wish I could claim that level of
foresight, m’lord, but alas, it was merely a fortunate
coincidence.” Dardan sighed and hefted his arms again as the tailor
prodded him and asked him if he could kindly hold still for five
seconds at a time. Dardan certainly could have summoned the tailor
to the manse, but he’d wanted to get away from his mother for a
while and had insisted they go out into the city.

The sun was nearly set when they emerged
from the tailor’s shop. Callaston’s tall streetside oil lamps had
already been lit. “What say we go for a walk, m’lord?” Liam
suggested.

“Hm? Yes, of course.” He let Liam lead the
way, paying no attention to their path. Liam made a beeline for the
the nearest malthouse: Tarrington’s, catering to lords and wealthy
merchants, situated as it was in this upscale part of
Callaston.

The room was somehow both well-lit and
musty, sunlight slanting in through the windows to glint off motes
in the air. Three men, two with flutes and one with a hand drum,
sat on a platform at the side of the room, piping and pounding
merrily. Liam found an open booth and sent a serving boy to fetch
ale and fried onions. Dardan slid into the booth, looking
doubtful.

Liam felt just the opposite. Going into a
malthouse energized him like nothing else. Ale was all well and
good, and he loved the traditional snack of battered and fried
pearl onions as much as the next Garovan, but the real allure was
in the freedom to speak. By tradition, men left their titles at the
door, and said what they willed. Well, as much as they dared to.
Everyone knew stories of some ale-soaked
valo
who had said
the wrong thing to a duke, and later regretted it.

It was also the best place to talk about
women, since they were customarily banned from malthouses. In
Callaston, at least, and most towns Liam had been to. He waited
until he’d had his first sip of ale, then started in. “All right,
you’ve spent half the day moping about. Stop it before I knock your
hat off. You’ll be with the prettiest girl at the ball! You should
be dancing with joy, though I suppose I’ve been your
valo
long enough to know you better than that.”

Dardan glanced up. “What are you on
about?”

Liam shoved the bowl of onions at Dardan
hard enough that the younger man had to catch it before it tipped
into his lap. “I’ve seen moths less dazzled by a torch than you
were by that girl.”

Dardan snorted, pushing the onions back. “So
what? She’s a pretty girl. We’ve got them in Hedenham too, you
know.”

“Your eyes nearly fell out of your head.
Don’t deny it. I was watching you the whole time.”

“Can’t a man be charmed?” Dardan finally
took a gulp of ale.

“Charmed? Is that what it was?” Liam popped
a bit of fried onion into his mouth. “Tell me one thing, anything,
that you learned about her today, that you didn’t already
know.”

Dardan paused. “Uh. Well, there was… uh…
she…” He trailed off. “Oh, shut up.”

Liam laughed. “See? You were hooked the
moment she walked in the door. I’ll admit, she might be the
prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, but it’s not my legacy that’s on the
line here.”

“Yes, well, you got to stand over by the
wall, with her
vala
. Who was much less distracting. See? I
did notice something besides the lady.” This time he took a deeper
drink. “You don’t think there’s anything to worry about, do
you?”

“About what?”

“That she told us so little of herself. I
mean, mother already gave us the important details, but…”

Liam shrugged as he crunched on another
onion. “Some girls don’t talk much of themselves. Well, a few
girls. Well, before today, I would have said there might be one
somewhere. Look, unless there’s something in particular you’re
concerned about, have a drink and thank your good fortune. You’ll
see her again, no doubt. The countess will want you to meet her at
least once more before the ball.”

“By all means, let’s repeat today’s
disaster.”

“You got her to say yes. Hardly a
disaster.”