Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  Josselin had obviously noticed Tabitha doing just that, and Tabitha did not want to react to that either. “I am sure it is,” was all she said.

  “It’s still important to talk about these subjects,” Josselin said firmly, “no matter how awkward it may feel.” She lifted her goblet. “To knowledge.”

  “To knowledge,” Tabitha and Koren repeated, and Tabitha took a little sip of the wine. It was sweeter than other wines, but did not feel like she had coated her mouth with syrup.

  “I hope one of you two will continue these gatherings once I’m gone,” Josselin said. “Or maybe both of you together, or alternating.”

  “What about Ilene?” Tabitha asked, to cover her horror at the idea of hosting these “gatherings” herself. “Or is this just for L’Abbanist girls?”

  “Ah, you noticed that.” Josselin sighed. “I invited Ilene, but Serafina did not think it was necessary for her to come. I also invited three Academy girls who aren’t from L’Abbanist lands, but all declined. Unfortunately the Academy has become heavily L’Abbanist. Only a fourth of the boys are from the south or from Medea or Essena, and even fewer of the girls.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Prejudice is a part of it, for certain. Hamid believes that the magi schools in Aedseli are superior to what we have here. Malaya does not want any Tolander girls influenced by L’Abbanist teachings, and even though the Academy curriculum does not include any religious leanings, our values and customs can’t help but be part of it. There is but one Tolander girl enrolled at the Academy.”

  Tabitha nodded. “And boys?”

  “Only girls are trained as magi in Toland.” Josselin seemed sad about that, and had a drink of wine before continuing. “Boys with the gift are treated rather badly, I’m afraid.”

  “Even now? With Daxod as their sorcerer?”

  “Especially now. It’s a real mess down there.” She shook her head, then looked at Tabitha. “I do hope to see more Thendal girls coming to the Academy now. Traditionally, the nobles of your country send their sons here, but train their daughters close to home.”

  “Yes, my friend Attarine was training in Jasinde.”

  “It’s not a good school up there,” Josselin said, her tone unhappy at giving that assessment. “They only train girls who have the healing gift, and they exclude entire categories of treatments. The magi school for girls in Jen Idre in Adelard is better, though. So much better, in fact, that they have been siphoning enrollment from our Academy too.” She made a gesture that seemed to indicate frustration, but then another as if calming herself. “In any event, I’ve been unable to pull the Academy back to a more ecumenical footing, so I hope you do better. Your Circle.”

  “We will try,” Koren promised.

  “Yes,” Tabitha agreed. She would make sure more Thendal girls came to Maze Island, for their benefit and her own.

  Josselin ate some bread and cheese, then brushed crumbs off her hands and said, “So, Tabitha. What are some of the questions you have?”

  Tabitha decided to start simply. “What was Natayl like when you first knew him?”

  Josselin laughed, a contagious sound that had Tabitha smiling before she realized it. “Yes, you would want to know that, wouldn’t you? I know how you feel. My predecessor, too, was male, and he, too, was lacking in tact and compassion.”

  “Sorcerer Vonn?”

  “Yes. He was hard to live with. Much as Natayl must be.” She took a sip of wine. “I hated Natayl on sight, and so did Contare. I think you know that Natayl was the crown prince of Thendalia before he became the new sorcerer. He came down here expecting everyone to still treat him like a prince, to defer to him and follow his lead. And he had no use for women at all, except as playthings.”

  “It seems he has not changed,” Tabitha said. She was still smiling, but Josselin gave her a suddenly serious look.

  “What do you mean? He treats you like a plaything?”

  “No, not at all.” This time Tabitha let herself wince openly. “Nothing like that. But everyone around him defers to him and follows his lead, like you said. And I have heard from some women that he does not respect them.”

  Josselin nodded thoughtfully. “So what does ‘everyone around him’ say about him?”

  “Very little. All his servants told me that they have not served him for very long, five or six years at the most.”

  “I see.” Josselin leaned her elbow on the table and set her chin against her fist. “Growing old has been hard on all of us, but worst, I think, on him. When your Circle was born, our Circle started aging very quickly. I sure didn’t like it.” She gestured to her wrinkled face and grey hair. “But Natayl has become almost a hermit. He spends much more time out in the islands now, overseeing the farms. When he has to go about the city, he pretends to be an ordinary magus, which he seldom did before. And yes, he did start replacing his servants every few years, as if he couldn’t stand for anyone to look at him for long.” Josselin paused, lost in thought. “Not even the rest of us. Whenever he doesn’t absolutely have to be at an event or meeting or party, he avoids it. He used to host a Winter Solstice ball every few years, and it was always great fun. He took great pride in the fact that it was a traditional Thendal celebration.”

  “I should tell Ferogin that,” Tabitha said. “He thinks Thendal celebrations are ‘dreary’.”

  “Oh, not at all. I always enjoyed that party. I was among the very few non-Thendals in attendance, and I found it very entertaining. Natayl insisted that everyone speak Thendalian and eat bear meat and drink mead. There was epic poetry and cards and life-size board games. And Natayl lording over it all like a rooster.” Josselin laughed a little.

  “Then I will revive it,” Tabitha declared. “I will host a Winter Solstice ball this year.” She smiled at Josselin. “And because I just told you that I would do it, Natayl can’t say no.” She was not nearly as confident about that as she sounded.

  “Of course he can’t,” Josselin agreed. “You have extended an invitation, and it would be terribly rude of you to withdraw it.” She grinned and saluted Tabitha with her wine goblet.

  “That’s settled, then.” It would be the first party she had ever hosted. She needed to start planning now. “I assume that Natayl always held it at the manor house?”

  “Yes. Goodness, I haven’t been there in, oh, ten years or more.”

  “Truly? It’s been that long since he hosted any parties?” The ballrooms always looked spotlessly clean.

  “About that long, yes. Once he was no longer dangerously handsome.”

  “I’ve seen portraits,” Tabitha nodded. Alain and Nicolas were both more handsome than Natayl had been, but she had no doubt that the sorcerer had turned many women’s heads.

  “He hated losing that, even more than I did. I was beautiful and vain myself.” Now her eyes traveled over Tabitha’s face, and her smile was sad. “So the Circles turn.”

  “He is not that bad looking now,” Tabitha said, using the joke to move past the idea of her own beauty fading. “That frown of his does more damage than anything else.”

  “Yes, I think so too. I even told him that, but my opinion is, of course, irrelevant.”

  “He still does not respect you?” She thought of old Maga Elinore and the other magi women who had pledged themselves to her. “Is it because you are a woman? Surely you have proven yourself to him.”

  “Oh, I’ve taught him to respect me,” Josselin nodded. “Serafina and Malaya have too. He was apprenticed to Sorceress Iseult, remember, so he’s not stupid enough to ignore a sorceress’s judgment, but he considers us exceptions.”

  “I can’t imagine even he would dismiss her. What was she like when you knew her?”

  “Iseult?” Josselin tilted her head in recollection. “She was … distant. Polite enough, but seemed to have no interest in most people. Contare and Pascin both had that impression of her as well.”

  “I don’t imagine that you ever asked her about … about what happe
ned to her.”

  “No.” Josselin’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No.” She laughed ruefully then. “I did ask Natayl, though, years after the elders died. He nearly bit my head off.”

  “He did?”

  “He said my ‘morbid curiosity’ added insult to injury, and that if I had any decency at all, I’d never mention it again. Which leads me to believe that Iseult felt the pain of her Circle’s betrayal until the end of her life.”

  Tabitha bowed her head. “I probably should not ask him, then.”

  “You probably should wait for a good moment, at least.”

  “We have not had any of those yet,” Tabitha said with a bitter smile. “My conversation bores him.”

  “He’s never kept company with women for their conversation,” Josselin said. “I’m sorry, dear. The long and short of it is, a woman needs to work much harder to impress him with her intelligence than a man does.”

  Then I will never impress him at all. Beatris or Clementa might have had a chance, but not Tabitha.

  “What is it, dear?”

  Tabitha told herself that this was a relatively safe topic. If she was going to ask Josselin more difficult questions later, she should probably start confiding in her now, to see how she reacted. “He makes me feel stupid,” she admitted. “He expects me to understand things right away.”

  “He’s not patient enough to be a good teacher.”

  “He tells me to do things, but he never answers my questions. He never makes anything easy for me. He never tells me why. He put all my magi in danger and would not tell me why.”

  Josselin folded her arms on the table. “If it makes you feel any better, he wouldn’t tell us why he did that either.”

  “The Jasinthes think he was sending them a message.”

  “Perhaps. But it was overshadowed when your king was killed.”

  Tabitha winced. “What did he say about that?” she murmured, her eyes on her wine goblet.

  “Nothing, but it was clearly an accident.” Josselin paused. “Wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but Natayl blames me. That rocket almost hit me, but he blames me for not stopping the bleeding!” She took a quick, deep breath.

  “It’s all right, dear. Your anger is justified.”

  “He knows I can’t heal yet,” Tabitha continued, more quietly, “but he still wanted me to stop the bleeding. That was unreasonable, right?”

  “Quite.” Josselin drummed the table with her fingertips. “What is your training like, dear? Do you have a schedule of lessons? A set course of study?”

  “Once Equinox was over, he gave me two tutors.” He had not explained why he would no longer be conducting her lessons personally. But since passing her training over to them, he had not devised any more “tests” for her, either. She liked this arrangement much better. “Magus Uchsin is in charge of telepathy, telekinesis, and pyrokinesis. I’m learning anatomy and healing from Maga Rollana, and she is also supposed to start teaching me history, language, and other things not related to magic.” She pursed her lips in annoyance. “Natayl found my prior education in those subjects to be ‘lacking’.”

  “And what does Natayl teach you?”

  “Nothing.” When Josselin narrowed her eyes, Tabitha added, “He says he’s going to wait until I know the ‘basics’ before he starts training me himself on things only a sorcerer can teach.”

  “Hm.” Josselin quirked her eyebrow. “That all sounds rather haphazard. When I asked him six months ago, he told me that he had a plan for training his successor and that he didn’t need me to interfere.”

  Maybe he did have a plan, but I was too stupid for it. Tabitha pushed the thought away. “I don’t mind the magi teaching me. And I have Attarine and my other friends who help me practice.”

  “Has Natayl started showing you the work we do at the Hall?”

  Tabitha nodded. She did not think she should tell Josselin that she found the work of the Hall to be deathly dull. “I read a lot of reports.”

  Josselin pursed her lips for a moment, then shook her head in resignation. “I’m sorry, dear. If I were in charge of your training, things would be different. But Natayl is fulfilling his responsibilities somewhat. I’m not sure you know this, but Malaya has outright refused to train Daxod, so Hamid and Pascin have stepped in.”

  Tabitha had not known this. Some of the comments Daxod had made in the labyrinth made more sense now. “I suppose I have stopped really expecting anything from Natayl.” Except scorn. “I know that other people will answer my questions.” She gave Josselin a smile.

  Josselin smiled back, but said, “You should expect everything from Natayl. After what he did to you and Graegor, he owes you his best efforts. And his best answers.”

  Tabitha looked away and said nothing. There was nothing to say. She should not have been surprised that Josselin knew, since Lord Contare had been there when it had happened. Koren probably already knew too, since Josselin had said it in front of her. Did all the sorcerers know?

  “What did he say when you asked him why he bonded you two?” Josselin asked quietly.

  “Nothing.” Tabitha reached for her wine. “As I recall, he told me to calm down.”

  Josselin reached for her own wine. “Ah.” After drinking, she said, “He would not tell us anything either, when the Circle convened. Contare demanded an accounting and a punishment. But since we couldn’t compel the truth from Natayl, we couldn’t agree on a censure. I hope when we next meet, we can agree on a censure for the danger to your magi.”

  “Why do you think he bonded us?” Josselin obviously had an opinion on everything, so Tabitha wanted to hear this one.

  “Well, my guess is that he didn’t want suitors at his door. I assume you had many suitors back in Thendalia?”

  “Dozens.”

  “He wouldn’t want to be the gatekeeper that your father no doubt was. Your youth and your status as his apprentice makes it unlikely that many men would approach you directly, but Natayl would very quickly tire of men seeking his approval to court you. He probably expected you to fall in love with Graegor instantly, and since no one would compete with a sorcerer, that would be the end of it.”

  Am I in love with him? Tabitha still did not know. She knew she wanted to bed him, but Nicolas had taught her that bedding was not loving. “Did it happen to you that way?” she felt bold enough to ask, and then, “Why did Lord Contare want Natayl punished for it? Who forced your bond? Were they punished for it?”

  “No one forced our bond.” Josselin smiled, almost wistfully. “When we met, neither of us knew we were sorcerers. He took my hand, and the bond took us.” She shook her head. “But that wasn’t the end of it. It was barely the beginning. We were so young and so confused. We hurt each other a lot because of that bond.” Her eyes narrowed, but not at Tabitha. She was looking far into the distance. “Contare wanted Natayl punished because Natayl saw us hurt each other. He knew what it did to us to be bonded so completely before we had the maturity for it. And even knowing that, he did it to you, to make things more convenient for him.” She blinked, and then looked back at Tabitha. “Contare and I are together despite that initial bond, not because of it,” she said. “Our bond now is built on a more enduring foundation. I hope yours and Graegor’s will be too.”

  It took Tabitha a moment to realize what Josselin was saying. “You know? I mean, that we, that we talked about it, and …” Of course she knows. Graegor surely told Lord Contare, and he told her.

  “Well, dear, everyone knows,” Josselin said, as if Tabitha should have realized that. “Everyone who saw you at the theater together told everyone else they knew. Your comings and goings are of great interest to a great many people. I’m surprised Natayl didn’t tell you … actually, no, I’m not surprised at all. He should have told you that romances between sorcerers make people nervous.”

  “Why?”

  “The fear is that your judgment will be compromised when it comes to what’s best for your people. I
think if you asked Arundel and Ilene about it, they would tell you that they’re under some pressure to be more discreet. There are powerful people in Telgardia and in Khenroxa who aren’t reconciled to how close Contare and I have always been.”

  Tabitha recognized an opening for what she really wanted to know. She hesitated, but when Josselin lifted an eyebrow at her, she grit her teeth, dropped her gaze, and plunged in. “Are they right to worry? You said that magi can’t keep secrets from each other when they are … I mean … well, if it’s the same for sorcerers, would that not … compromise your judgment?”

  Josselin said, “A valid point.” Her teaching voice was back. “Sorcerers can shield thoughts from magi, even in bed. But it is difficult, though not impossible, for sorcerers to shield thoughts from other sorcerers while in bed.”

  At this, Tabitha practiced not reacting at all.

  “But even if you can’t shield your thoughts from your lover,” Josselin went on, “you probably won’t be thinking about politics when you’re in bed. And if you love and trust someone enough to sleep with him, he’s unlikely to take advantage of political secrets even if he learns them. But a conflict of loyalties is hard to resolve, and it can certainly arise in these cases. It can arise in marriage alliances between noble families too, and of course there are people who don’t like those, either.” She paused for a moment, and then added, “They are right to worry. But we are right to love, and to trust.”

  Nodding slowly, Tabitha kept her eyes averted, not knowing what to ask next. Josselin had not told her what she had hoped to hear. She needed to keep Graegor from knowing about Alain and Nicolas, but she knew that she would not be able to stop herself from thinking about the men she had killed. She had thought about Alain while Nicolas was making love to her.