He jumped up and rushed away to the far side of the apartment, several rooms away, and I obligingly took some more of his magic. He shrieked with delight, and shot back into the room.
“I’ll go down a couple of floors—” he began.
Mother stopped him with a lift of one hand. “Another time.”
“Besides,” I said sheepishly, “I’ve already tested it. I even took magic from Ly-haam’s mother, using her bond with the eagle. And I can detect and take magic from anywhere within the Keep, if it’s strong enough. I’ve already tried.”
“If it’s strong enough?” Mother said sharply. “Can you take mine, then?”
“Yes. I tried it just now, although it’s more difficult than with Cal’s vessel. Your magic resists me, somehow, as if it doesn’t want to leave you. But…”
“But…?” Cal prompted.
“This will sound strange, but Mother’s magic is pure, somehow. I can’t quite describe it, but it feels clear and… and good. Whereas Ly-haam’s magic feels evil. It takes control of him and makes him do bad things. It takes control of me, too, when I touch him. And it’s not bright and shiny, like Mother’s, it flows through his blood, all muddy and dark.”
“Magic can’t be good or evil, Drina,” Mother said. “Magic just is. It’s a force of nature, like sunshine or rain. It’s what people do with it that’s good or evil. That’s why it’s so tightly controlled.”
That seemed very logical, but it didn’t quite fit with what I’d seen. “Maybe so, but Ly-haam’s magic is not like yours. It’s as if it’s corrupted in some way. As if his blood is corrupted.”
“Does he frighten you, this Ly-haam?” Cal said quietly.
“When the magic rages in him, yes. The power of it frightens me. It frightens him, too. He hates what it makes him do. But when it’s gone, when he’s just himself – he’s quite different then, not frightening at all.”
“And sex drains his magic? Completely? How strange. But you used that to escape from him. Clever girl.”
“Of course she is!” Mother said. “But she’s only seventeen. She shouldn’t be dealing with this sort of problem at her age. She should be reading her books and giving herself time to grow up slowly, not learning the power of sexual manipulation. And now there’s this marriage. It’s too much for her, far too much. I trusted Yannassia with my daughter, and look how she’s pushing her into these complex situations. It’s not right.”
I had to smile at her indignation. “The marriage will take years to come to fruition. There’s the treaty to negotiate, then it has to go through the Nobles’ Council, and even then there will be a long betrothal period.”
“Yes, but—” Mother began, but Arran raised a hand.
“Maybe this marriage will happen or maybe it will not. The Icthari do not yet know the terms the Drashona will set – that she insists on Drina living here, for instance. So the whole affair may yet come to nothing.” Mother nodded, accepting the point. Arran went on, “For myself, I should like to know more about Drina’s eagle. I saw it once, but I should dearly like another look.”
I blessed his calm tones, diverting Mother from one of her maternal outbreaks. As a child, I’d often felt resentful of her perceived neglect of me, but when roused she could be formidably protective. But the awkward moment had passed.
“I’d like to see this bird too,” Cal said quickly.
I laughed with delight. The eagle was no secret any more. I could go to her whenever I wished, instead of creeping round in the dark. And I could show her to my family. “Would you like to see her now? Because she’s on the roof directly above us.”
But as we made our way up to the roof, the eagle’s excitement at seeing us filling my mind, I thought of Ly-haam and those tranquil suns on his island, and wondered where he was.
~~~~~
The Icthari agreed to everything Yannassia proposed, without demur. The trade agreements would be increased to include goods not presently covered. Some troublesome taxes on exports would be abolished. Limits on Bennamorian scholars pursuing research in Icthari land would be lifted. Exact details to be determined but the principles were agreed. And, of more interest to me, Ghat would be delighted to make his home in Kingswell, and had no objection to Arran. The whole discussion took less than an hour.
“Well, that is very agreeable of them,” Mother said, when we met at the mages’ house afterwards. “It must mean that they really want this marriage to take place.”
Cal smiled at her with affection. “Kyra, you have no political instincts at all. It means the exact opposite.”
“What! How do you work that out? Oh, they agreed too easily, you mean?”
“Precisely. They have no intention of allowing this marriage to take place. Drina, did they ask for anything at all?”
“Yes. They want me to return with Ghat and his father to be shown off to various Icthari factions. Groups. Clans. I am not sure quite what they call themselves.” When I’d heard the word, it had translated in my mind as ‘families’ but with some deeper connotation that I couldn’t quite decipher.
“Ha! You will not go, I hope.”
I sighed. “It’s hard to think of a reason to refuse. I agree there is something going on, but I have no idea what it is. And I will be quite safe. I will be permitted a full honour escort of Elite Guards, plus Cryalla. Even Arran can come with me. And Ghat himself seems quite keen on the whole marriage idea.”
“He certainly likes you,” Mother said. “You don’t need political instincts to see that. But be careful what you eat. They are very knowledgeable about poisons, the Icthari.” She and Cal exchanged glances, which made me wonder what prompted that particular warning.
“I think he, at least, is sincere,” Arran said. “I cannot see any deception in him. And he has made a big effort to get to know Zandara and Axandor, too. He and his father even wanted to see Zandara’s baby. I rather like him. Obviously, I am not terribly happy about the idea of Drina marrying anyone, but better this man rather than someone who sees her only as a means of political advantage.”
“Well, be on your guard, that’s all.” Cal said. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it one little bit.”
~~~~~
The Icthari visit drew to a close, and they prepared to return home. I had found excuses to avoid travelling with them, but they would only agree to a ten-sun’s delay. It was not much time to try to deduce what game they were playing, and to find a way around it.
Yannassia agreed that they had given in too easily. “I expected them to object to your drusse, at least,” she said. “There is the matter of children to be considered, and it is usual to impose strict restrictions. But you will have time when you are there to assess these people more fully. The language is a problem, but you will have your own interpreters. Do not rely on their translations.”
That was the moment when I should have told her of my strange ability. It would have set her mind at rest, if she had known. But I hated to admit to yet another bizarre ability that I couldn’t explain. I was weird enough already. And besides, she was surrounded by her nobles and mages and scribes and courtiers. It was just too public. I resolved to find a private moment before I left to tell her everything, as I should have done long since.
On the last night before the Icthari departure, Yannassia held a great feast. There were always a few such events throughout the year, but this was to be special. We were all to dress in our very best. Even Mother was persuaded into a gown for the occasion.
“What a fuss!” she grumbled. “No occasion is so grand that it requires a gown. The azai is much more elegant.”
“You look delightful, sweetheart,” Cal said, his eyes drifting to the low neckline.
“And that is exactly why an azai is more appropriate,” she murmured, tapping him reprovingly on one cheek with her fan. “No one takes a woman seriously dressed like this.”
I was seated with Yannassia’s brother, Yordryn, to one side of me, and Ghat to the other. Ghat’s f
ather sat on his other side, to translate Ghat’s many compliments. He admired the feast chamber, the decorations, the music drifting down from a gallery, the silver and gold plate, the flowers adorning the tables. He tried every dish, and sipped all five kinds of wine provided. But he reserved his greatest praise for me: my gown, my hair, my jewels, my clear skin, my sparkling eyes, my lustrous hair all received their share of his attention. His eyes shone as he spoke, and his father translated every word faithfully, although with an occasional comment of his own.
“As you can see, Highness, my son is quite smitten with you,” he murmured.
“No lady minds such delightful compliments,” I said, with a smile. But I couldn’t help a glance down the table to where Arran sat watching me. He looked away as soon as I caught his eye, but my heart ached for him, an island of misery amongst the wine-fuelled merriment.
For relief from Ghat’s endless admiration, I turned to Yordryn for a while, but he was, as usual, sullen company. Once he had been a lively and intelligent man, so people said, but the illness that had killed his wife and son had affected him, too, and changed him. Or perhaps he was just overwhelmed with grief. He had sent away all his other children, by several drusse, and clung instead to Vhar-zhin, his sole remaining child by his wife. Even she could not lift his spirits, and although he had been the confirmed heir, when his father died the nobles had chosen Yannassia instead.
When I turned back to Ghat, he was deep in conversation with his father. He had no idea I could understand him, so he wasn’t bothering to lower his voice.
“…very pretty. And nicely built. Those tits! I can’t wait to get my hands around those.”
“You may have to wait, boy. These things take time.”
“The official things, maybe. But I’ll be spending a lot of time with her, and she’s not exactly shy, you know? She’s been around the campfire once or twice, if the reports are true. I’m sure I can get her to spread her legs.”
His father made an exasperated grunt. “When will you learn to think with your head instead of your fucking dick? Don’t lose sight of the plan.”
“I haven’t. Look, if I fuck her senseless, I can easily do the job while she sleeps.”
“And have everyone know who did it? Don’t be stupid. Fuck her if you must, but stick to the plan. The whole plan, mind you. That way we’ll get all the traitor’s spawn, in time, and no one will know.”
“But you’ve already started, haven’t you? That was a change of plan, wasn’t it?”
Just then, servants came to replenish the wine, and Ghat turned back to me with his ready smile.
It took all my years of training at Yannassia’s feet to smile back at him, to pretend there was nothing the matter.
To pretend I hadn’t just listened to them plotting my murder.
23: The Traitor's Spawn
“But what else could it mean?” I hissed, trying to keep the panic out of my voice and not quite succeeding. “They want to kill me. I can’t see any other interpretation.”
Arran, Cal and Mother looked at me with anxious faces. I had pulled them into an alcove as soon as the meal was finished. A laughing group of nobles wandered past, eyeing us curiously.
“We can’t talk here,” Cal said, in a low voice. “But we can’t just walk out, either. What else is there after this – dancing?”
“No, nothing like that,” I said. “Some speeches in the assembly chamber, that’s all. We can escape after that. Let’s meet at our apartment.”
“No, the mages’ house,” Cal said. “There are wards on the doors and windows, and a lot of powerful deterrent magic. It’s safer there.”
I’d never seen him so serious.
~~~~~
“Tell us everything that was said,” Cal said an hour later, when we were settled in their rooms at the mages’ house. “Try to remember the exact words.”
I tried, but it was not easy. I was trained to detect subtle nuances of meaning and unspoken undercurrents, not to remember a conversation word for word, but I did my best.
They listened in silence.
Arran shook his head. “There is little room for misunderstanding. Do the job? And get all the traitor’s spawn? Clearly they want to remove all of you – Zandara and Axandor as well. All your father’s children.”
I let the discussion swirl around me. It pained me beyond measure to hear my father described so. A traitor! He was a hero to me and my country, but clearly the Ictharis felt differently about him. Perhaps they saw him as one of the Icthari who had become Bennamorian, a traitor because he had a different allegiance. But he had been born and raised in Bennamore, so it was hardly a surprise if his loyalties were different from theirs.
“What did they mean when they said they’d already started?” My mother’s clear voice cut through my introspection.
The answer was obvious. All at once I was overwhelmed by a driving sense of urgency.
I jumped up. “Zandara! Axandor! We must warn them – at once!”
No one argued with me. I turned and ran from the apartment. Heavy footsteps pounded behind me, but I didn’t turn to check who was following me. Zandara’s apartment was closer, so that was where I headed. Long before I reached her door, I slowed, winded and feeling the beginnings of exhaustion creeping up on me. I needed magic, but there was no time.
I reached the apartment, the guards springing aside for me, and pounded on the door, then leaned against the jamb to catch my breath. It seemed a long, long time before a servant opened it, peering out at me in bewilderment. I wasn’t surprised at that. Zandara and I had never had the sort of sisterly relationship that encompassed dropping in on each other close to midnight.
I pushed past him, forcing him to jump aside.
“Where is she? I must talk to Highness Zandara immediately!”
“Highness…” But he could see from my breathless impatience that I was not going to be denied. With a curt bow, he vanished into some inner fastness.
I paced about, then collapsed into a chair as my legs lost the will to move. Then jumped up and began pacing again. Cryalla and Arran had followed me, and, puffing, Cal arrived, too. Then, all in a group, Mother and the two mage guards. Mother took one look at me, and held her hand to my cheek. Her cool magic streamed into me, with its life-giving energy.
I had time only for a quick smile of thanks before an inner door opened. In the distance, the baby was crying, and from somewhere nearby came the sounds of music and bursts of laughter. Zandara was not at the party, however. She swept into the room, arrayed in a fearsomely elaborate night robe. I didn’t think it likely she was tending the baby, either, in such a costume. A wisp of silk covered the rags curling her hair. And all this time I’d thought her hair curled naturally.
“Whatever is the matter, Drina?” she said, her face cold. “Has someone died?” Her voice was as level as if she were enquiring after the grain quotas.
“Not yet,” I blurted. “But the Icthari are trying to kill us!”
“Us?”
“You, me and Axandor. They want us dead!”
“And you know this for a fact? How, exactly?”
I hesitated, still reluctant to admit to my ability with languages. “I overheard them. Look… I just think you should be on your guard, that’s all.”
She raised one artfully shaped eyebrow, her eyes falling first on her own bodyguard, his sword half-drawn, and then the door guards, the two I’d pushed aside, and another three, filling the open doorway with solid, muscled strength.
“Poison,” Mother said. “The Icthari are experts with poison.”
“They have had ample opportunity to poison us, if they so wished, Lady Mage,” Zandara said. “Besides, they will be leaving early tomorrow. I do not see any need for concern.”
There was not much else I could say. We left, with the baby still crying half-heartedly in the distance. I wondered what ailed him, to make him cry so long. As we passed through the entrance hall, I was startled to see two servants w
ith the dark skin and thin noses of Icthari. They wore the symbols of long service, so they must be loyal to Zandara, but even so, I shivered to see them here.
Disheartened, we made our way to Axandor’s apartment at a slower pace. He was even less pleased to see us, since we had interrupted his bedroom activities.
“You are crazy, Drina,” was all he said, before stomping back to that night’s lady.
We gathered in the corridor, a little away from his door, to avoid our discussion being overheard by the guards. Although it hardly mattered. My behaviour would be the talk of the Keep before the first bell. Well, I was used to being outrageous.
“You have done all you can,” Mother said, patting my hand, giving me another tingle of magic.
“There is one more person who must be told,” I said firmly.
“Yannassia?” Cal said. “She will not be pleased. It must be long after midnight.”
“Nevertheless, I must tell her.”
Waking the Drashona was not a simple matter. Merely getting into the apartment took a level of negotiation normally reserved for cross-border trade agreements. Guards, night stewards, more guards, the bedchamber steward – all had to be convinced of the urgency of the matter. Then we had to wait for Yannassia, while servants plied us with food and drink, for all the world as if this were a casual afternoon appointment. I couldn’t sit, pacing restlessly back and forth, and helping myself to little bursts of magic from Cal and Mother to stem my exhaustion.
Eventually Yannassia came, her nightrobe elegant, her hair in a long braid down her back. Her face was icy. “This had better be important, Drina,” she said, as she arranged herself on a sofa. “I do not like being summoned from bed like this.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, perching on the edge of a chair. “But it is important. The Icthari are trying to kill us. Me, Axandor and Zandara, I mean. I overheard them talking about it at the banquet.”
“Who was talking about it?”
“Hal Ghat and Hal Torghesh.”
“They said this to you directly?”
The Fire Mages' Daughter Page 22