There was still a year before I turned thirteen and became an adult. I wasn’t going to wait that long if I could help it. Besides, with any luck I’d be home by then.
“I should like a legal ruling, that is all, Highness. The Magister made a contract with me, and now I believe she is… is reneging on that.”
She smiled, and for one ghastly moment, I thought I’d used the wrong word. I’d heard it often enough, but I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. But she went on, “A legal ruling? I can give you my opinion, if you wish. I will attend your lessons when I can spare the time, and you and Magister Abranda may each present your case. Then I will give you my opinion. But it will not have the force of law. Magister Abranda must make the rules in her own domain, just as I do in mine.”
“Thank you, Highness, that is all I ask,” I said demurely, trying not to appear too exultant.
“And, Axandrina, perhaps you might like to call me something less formal? My own children call me Mother, of course, but Axandor calls me Yannassia. You may, too, if you wish.”
I looked at her, trying to judge the implications of that. I could never call her Mother, any more than I could call Cal Father, but using her name seemed a little casual to me. She was the supreme ruler of the realm, after all. And she was still being formal with me.
“Perhaps when you call me Drina, I will call you Yannassia, Highness.”
3: The Icthari Delegation
It was more than a ten-sun before the Drashona appeared in the children’s library, creating a bit of a stir, and some crowding, for she always had a retinue with her. Her bodyguard was never more than two paces from her side, and then there were a couple of mages and some scribes and several waiting women.
A chair was found for her, and the others were shuffled to the back of the room, apart from the bodyguard, who stood eyeing us all suspiciously in case a child or a tutor produced a knife. I suppose a bodyguard can never afford to relax. The moment you stop watching might be the moment an assassin appears.
The Magister graciously allowed me to present my case first. I suspect she thought that would flummox me, but I’d watched any number of petitions, and worse things, at the Kellona’s Hall at home. My mother or Cal always had to be there, because, just like Jayna, they could tell when people lied. Since the sessions were public, I’d often gone along too.
So I told my tale, just the plain unembroidered facts, and then listened while Magister Abranda tried not very successfully to control her temper at having to submit her actions to the Drashona’s judgment.
“It is a most interesting case,” the Drashona said at the end of it. “Not least because of the matter of the missing book. If it is not in this room, then where can it be?”
The Magister smirked. “There are a great many books here. I have no doubt it will be found in this room somewhere, Most Powerful.”
“No, I believe not, for Axandrina has examined every book. I feel that we should institute a more extensive search. Do you not agree, Magister?”
The Magister was silent. She licked her lips, but could find nothing to say. Strangely, until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that she might have hidden the book herself. I’d just assumed that she knew it was missing and so had set me a deliberately impossible task.
But if there was a search, and the book was found in her room, that would be a very serious offence. Thievery in a Magister would cause her to lose her position. I looked from the Drashona to the Magister and back again. The Drashona’s face was unreadable to me. Was she serious about this?
But she backed away from it. “Perhaps you can take the necessary steps, Magister.”
The Magister bowed, but her hands were shaking. At that moment, I felt sorry for her, even though she’d brought it on herself.
“Here is my opinion,” the Drashona went on. “I believe that Lady Axandrina correctly met the standard of the test as it was set – to read every volume in this room. This she did.”
I glowed with triumph. I had won!
“However…”
Is there any word more depressing to hear? My heart sank to the floor in an instant.
“However… this would only entitle her to ask to be admitted to the Keep library. That was the arrangement, I believe. So you may ask, Axandrina, but it is for the Magister to decide whether to make the request on your behalf, since you are not yet adult.”
“And I have no intention of doing so,” the Magister crowed.
“Couldn’t you ask for me, Highness?” I said. “The librarians would have to do it, then.”
“Which is exactly why I cannot. I, of all people, must conform to the rules. No special cases.”
It was a huge disappointment. I’d done everything I could, and proved my case to the Drashona, but it hadn’t been enough.
“Never mind,” she said to me in a low voice as she was preparing to leave. “The next year will pass very quickly, and then you will have all the books you could want.”
But I had no intention of staying around for so long. The game had been fun, but now it was time to think seriously of a way to get myself sent home.
~~~~~
“I have some news for you,” the Drashona said to us at one of her afternoon hours with the children. “There is a group of Icthari arriving soon, and I shall be receiving them formally in the assembly room. They would be pleased to meet you, I believe, so I should like you all to attend.”
Axandor looked at the baby, who was chewing a wooden horse and dribbling. “Even Yussia?” He was such an idiot.
I rolled my eyes at his stupidity, and even Zandara shook her head, but the Drashona never showed any impatience with him. “No, just Zandara, Axandrina and you. The little ones are of no consequence to the Icthari. You three are different. Your father was Icthari, so it will interest them greatly to see how you are growing up. I am afraid it will be quite dull for you, since they only speak Icthari, so everything will be done through an interpreter. You will have to wear a gown for the occasion, Axandrina.”
“May I wear an azai? My mother always does, for formal things.”
“I remember that. Yes, it would be acceptable, on this occasion, but if the Icthari invite you to any of the evening feasts, a gown would be more appropriate. You need to accustom yourself to managing skirts for when you are adult.”
I hoped I wouldn’t be around long enough for that.
To my delight, we were allowed to be present for the entire assembly. We sat on chairs on the lowest step of the dais, saying nothing, while a long procession of petitioners and delegates came and went. The Drashona was the same to everybody, from the new High Priest to the Sun Temple down to the apprentice stablehand who felt she’d been dismissed unfairly. She never made anyone feel rushed or inadequate or unimportant.
That was why she was Drashona, I suppose, by being good at such things. I could never have been so patient with the merchant who was obviously not telling the whole truth, or the smith who was too terrified to say anything at all. The Kellona at Zendronia was very short-tempered, and if she got an awkward case, with a petitioner who argued or got flustered, she would flounce out and then everyone would have to come back another sun. Cal used to get so cross about it. “As if we have nothing better to do,” he’d storm.
The Icthari should have been seen first because of their importance, but they were late, so there was a new Durshalon first, and then an ambassador from Ghar’annish, then one of our ambassadors just returned from the Blood Clans where she’d been witness to the crowning of their new god. Crowning or whatever they do when they find a god living amongst them. Exaltation, I think it was called. And the god sounded just like an ordinary boy to me. They had some kind of ceremony for the children when they became adults – something involving blood, naturally – and this particular boy, who was perfectly normal before, became a god. It all sounded very peculiar. I made a mental note to ask the tutors about it.
Then the Icthari turned up, drifting through in a straggli
ng group, chattering amongst themselves, very rudely, I thought. I’d read about the Icthari, of course, and even seen a few pictures in books, but I’d longed to see some in the flesh. These were my kin! Well, perhaps not these exact people, but they came from the same place as my father. At last I’d get some idea of what he looked like.
They were not what I’d expected. My mother had told me that my father was handsome and always perfectly dressed. He’d had great style, she said. These people were neither handsome nor stylish. Their clothes looked like rags, slashed and torn, although perhaps that was the fashion where they came from. And their faces were harsh, with thin noses like beaks. They looked a bit like crows, their fluttering clothes raggedy feathers.
But the Drashona was wrong about one thing, they weren’t speaking Icthari at all. I could understand everything they said.
When they reached the foot of the dais, they stopped chattering and made small bows to the Drashona.
“You are welcome to Kingswell and to Bennamore,” she said in her pleasant way.
“She welcomes you… but quite coldly,” one of the Icthari said.
“Say we are happy… the usual things,” one of the others said.
“We are very happy to be in your delightful country,” the first one said, more loudly.
“Tell her the weather here is shit.”
“Our accommodation is exceptionally comfortable. The Great One is most pleased.”
I couldn’t make it out at all. It was the oddest conversation I’d ever heard.
The Drashona spoke again. “These are the three children of your kinsman, Most Powerful Axandrei, son of the Hal Morinth deshat Shernfashat.”
“These are the traitor’s spawn,” the first Icthari said.
The Drashona again. “The eldest is Lady Axandrina, daughter of Lady Mage Kyra abra Dayna endor Durmaston.”
Traitor? My father? I was so flummoxed that I almost forgot to rise and make my bow.
The second Icthari spoke. “This one is well-grown. She will have fine tits in a year or two.”
Then the first. “Your daughter will be a great beauty when she is fully grown.”
Then Axandor and Zandara were introduced, with the same rude comments from one man, while the other made the sort of bland diplomatic noises that were usual on such occasions. Yet nobody seemed shocked or surprised by any of it.
I was very slow to work it out. It was only when I remembered that there was supposed to be an interpreter that I realised. The bland comments came from him. And the other man was speaking Icthari, yet somehow I could understand him.
I sat rigid with shock for the rest of the assembly, as petitioners came forward, were dealt with and vanished again. Afterwards, when there was food and drink served for the high-ranking visitors, I crept near enough to the Icthari to listen in to their conversation. They were standing in a line along one wall, looking out over the room.
“That one is not bad.”
“Which one? The one in red?”
“No, no! Too skinny and a face like a donkey. No, the one in gold. Look at the tits on that! Find out if she will lift her skirts, will you? Or her friend with the red hair. She looks lively.”
I didn’t stay to hear any more.
~~~~~
I had a letter from Cal to tell me that he was coming to see me. I supposed he had business in Kingswell, but he made it sound as if I was the sole purpose of his visit.
This galvanised me into action. There could hardly be a better time to get myself sent home, for then I could travel with him and not have to wait for an escort. A mage with his own guards was more than adequate.
The difficulty was to find some way to prove myself unsuitable to be the Drashona’s heir.
I was very glad to see him. Cal was not my father, but he had never been anything but kind to me. So when I saw his beaming face and he opened his arms to me, I flew into them and hugged him enthusiastically.
“Well, now, petal, it’s so good to see you!” he said, as soon as I stopped squeezing the breath out of him. “And you have splendid rooms. What a fine view from up here, right down to the gardens.”
“And a balcony, so I can get plenty of sunshine.”
“True. But are you really well? Your mother and I could hardly believe it when we read your letters. And Yannassia’s reports, too. You’re not overdoing it, are you?”
“No, not at all. I don’t run around as much as Lathran does, but I feel fine.”
“Kingswell must be good for you.”
While Cal went off to do magely things, I pondered my problem again. What would make me unacceptable to the Drashona? Stupidly, I had been very well-behaved so far. It would be tricky to change my attitude now.
No, I needed to do something outrageous, like starting a fire. Well, that could be dangerous, so perhaps not. But water – that was a possibility.
A flood, perhaps? Just a small one, nothing too drastic. There were water pipes in the bathing room with valves that opened to fill the tub. If they were left open, the tub would overflow and the water would flow out of the bathing room and down the servants’ stairs. There would be no damage to the stone stairs, but it would cause so much disruption! The servants would not be able to get up or down, and all the apartments served by those stairs would get evening board late, if at all. Everyone would be cross with me! Yannassia would have to realise I was too badly behaved to stay with her.
So as soon as the servants left to have their meal, I went through to the bathing room and opened all the valves on the water pipes. As the tub slowly filled, I quietly left the apartment.
~~~~~
“Do you see what you have done, Axandrina?” The Drashona’s voice was calm, as if I hadn’t just sent a waterfall cascading through eight floors of the Keep. “Do you see how much damage there is?”
In truth, I was appalled. I’d imagined gentle streams running quietly through the corridors and down the stairs, which wouldn’t have suffered one bit. A nuisance, no more than that.
But this… entire ceilings had crashed down. Carpets were ruined, and wall hangings and furnishings. Books had been washed away in the tide, to my great grief. It was a miracle no one had been hurt.
The Drashona had brought me and the even more appalled Cal to see the army of servants beginning the task of cleaning up. “Do you see how much work you have caused?” she said sadly.
“I am very sorry,” I whispered. I’d have preferred it if she’d shouted at me, stamped about and waved her arms and ranted a bit, as any normal person would. This calmness was unnatural.
She took us back to her private apartment, with only her bodyguard as witness, and offered me sweetmeats which I was too choked with misery to eat. For herself and Cal, she poured wine.
“Now, Axandrina, I want you to answer me one question, and you must tell the truth, do you understand?”
I nodded mutely.
“Good. The truth, then, and I shall know if you lie. Did you leave the water to run deliberately, or was it an accident?”
“Deliberately, Highness. But I am very sorry. I never meant to cause so much harm.”
“But why? What did you hope to achieve?”
I chewed my lip, but there was no point in prevarication. If nothing else, I wanted her to know how determined I was about this.
“I thought if I did something bad, you wouldn’t want me as your heir. And then I could go home to Mother.”
“Oh, Drina,” Cal said sorrowfully.
But the Drashona smiled. “Do you know what qualities I am looking for in my children, Axandrina? What makes one or another of you interesting to me as a potential heir?”
I shook my head.
“Well, it is not good behaviour, that much is certain. It is not docility. I have no interest in a child who is meek and always does exactly as she is told.” Did she mean Zandara? I wasn’t sure she was quite as meek as she appeared, but she was certainly well-behaved.
“Nor am I interested in foolishness,
” she went on. Well, that was Axandor out, as well. Bother. That left me, of the three eldest. “If you had simply forgotten the water – that would have been foolish. No, I look for intelligence. Not just book-cleverness, but the sort of mind that looks for alternative ways to solve problems. Diplomatic ways. Most of all, I am looking for someone with spirit, someone who makes things happen. Even if that might be quite unconventional. Can you see why you interest me, Drina?”
So she was choosing to interpret my bad behaviour as creativity, the work of an original mind. I sighed.
“But Highness, I don’t want to be your heir.”
It was Cal who answered. “But what is it you object to? Don’t you like it here, Drina? You sound very settled from your letters. You have a friend, you like the book-work, you’ve always enjoyed the formal aspects. And you’re so well here.”
“Yes, that is most encouraging,” the Drashona said. “I do not understand it, but it is a good sign, I think. Drina’s health was always my greatest concern.”
“Kyra thinks it may be the magic here,” he said. “The whole town is steeped in it, emanating from the Imperial City, but the Keep has some magical properties too. It may be that Drina is benefiting from that.”
“Whatever the cause, she is well here, and for that reason alone she should stay. But I cannot have the Keep half destroyed because you miss your mother, Drina. You like challenges, so here is another one for you. You can exclude yourself from consideration as my heir by making yourself indispensable to the realm in some other way.”
I sat up straighter. “I could be a mage!”
“That would certainly be one way. Mages renounce their inheritance rights when they achieve that status, so you could not possibly be my heir.”
“And I could go home to Zendronia?”
“That would be one option. But it will be hard work. Kingswell has no scribery with organised training, so you would have to study with tutors and books. Five years of such study.”
“I don’t mind that. Will you let me try?”
The Fire Mages' Daughter Page 3