by CJ Brightley
Dominic shifted uneasily. “I am not saying he would, but it might appear…that is, if he has not been accepted in Preusa, they might think he would be angry enough to want to do something for Yunwiya, maybe to gain prestige when he returned.”
Ardhuin smiled sadly. “But he can't. Any more than you or I could. By Yunwiyan custom, he is considered full-blooded Preusan.”
Dominic looked puzzled. “His father was Yunwiyan, correct?”
“They count only relations on the female side. To them, he has no blood connection.”
Dominic considered this. “So…whoever planned this does not know much about Yunwiyan custom.”
Markus snorted. “That does not eliminate many people from the list. I would be doubly unwelcome in Yunwiya as a magician,” he added. “They regard Aeropan magic as unnatural, especially the magic of war.”
Ardhuin regarded him. “You must have enemies here.”
He spread his hands wide, still staring at the strange piece of paper lying on the table before him. It now had the look of polished wood. “Enemies…yes, but nothing on this scale! Only those who disliked my foreign blood, who wanted me to leave, but their dislike was open and easily dealt with.”
“The paper is illusioned!” Dominic burst out. “It takes on the appearance of whatever it touches.”
Ardhuin nodded. She looked at it more carefully. “Only on the one side, too. A very clever piece of work.”
Dominic took it in turn, staring at it in fascination, then turned it over. “There is illusion here, too,” he said, puzzled. “But where? It looks only like paper with writing.”
“Let me see.” She stared at it for a while, flattening it on the table. Making a circle of her hands, she let a very delicate haze of magic form, the antithesis of her usual illusion to cancel what was there. It caused the illusion on the paper to fade and disappear, and Aeropan letters replaced the Yunwiyan symbols. Holding her circled hands over the letter, she shifted so the others could view it. “Highly revealing, don't you agree?” Markus and Dominic peered over her shoulders. “What does it say?” she asked impatiently. “I can't hold the spell, decipher the writing and puzzle out the Preusan.”
“It is addressed to 'L,' ” said Markus promptly. “It says, 'We can still turn the park to our advantage. Give this letter to R to use against the mongrel—it will have its effect, and he will be further indebted to us. Remove this layer as a precaution, however.' The next paragraph…” Ardhuin shifted her hands. “ 'Send as many new “friends” as you can discover. The first blow is approaching quickly, and if Oron’s heir is not found, strength will be crucial. I will deal with any questions of sincerity in your candidates in my own fashion.' It is signed with a sigil I do not recognize,” he added in a voice devoid of emotion.
Ardhuin slowly flattened her hands together, thinking hard and feeling very cold. The message mentioned Oron by name, and her by reference. “A sigil. One magician to another. What a great deal of confirmation. This must have been sent shortly after the assassination attempt.”
Markus nodded slowly. “Which they wanted to have me blamed for.”
“Any of your enemies match this?”
“Evidently, at least one…no, none that make sense. There is one on the Council, von Rügen, who would give a great deal to be rid of me.”
“The initial matches,” pointed out Dominic.
Markus shook his head. “He hates me, but he is a rabid monarchist who lost several members of his family in the Mage War. I find it very hard to credit he would conspire to assassinate the King or the Mage Guardians.”
“A point.” Ardhuin conceded.
“It could have been used against me without connection to the assassination attempt. Simply finding a hidden message like that could end my career. They would never be entirely sure of me.” He looked at Ardhuin impassively. “I realize it will be necessary for you to disclose this information to the Council.”
She looked at the letter, thinking furiously. It was information, and information was power. Right now she had little of either. She returned it to her pocket. “I am not certain that is the best course. Clearly, these plotters want you out of the way; this leads one to think you are not one of them. This letter, and other evidence, does lead one to think that these people are either highly placed in the military or government, or have contacts there. I see no advantage in advertising how much we have discovered.”
“I should probably argue against it,” said Markus softly, “but I lack the will. I swear to you on my honor I am guilty of no conspiracy, and I will do anything in my power to help you uncover this one.”
Dominic did not look overly impressed. “Can you get us out of the Imperial Palace? We aren’t going to uncover much in our current situation.”
Markus steepled his fingers, eyes narrowing in thought. “We’d need a believable destination, one that would require the Mage Guardian’s personal attention….” He suddenly sat up. “I suppose your training covered the removal of geasi as well as their creation?” he asked, tilting his head at Ardhuin.
“W-well, yes, of course, but—” She hoped her face did not reveal her trepidation. Where was this going, and how could she stop it?
“Excellent.” Markus rubbed his hands together. “Let me see if I can persuade them to take you to our assassin-substitute.” He got out of his seat. “They are so desperate for information it may overcome their reluctance to let you travel.” He bowed and left.
“Do you dislike the idea?” Dominic asked after a short silence.
She should tell him. It was only about the roses. He would understand. Wouldn’t he?
“I dislike the entire affair,” Ardhuin snapped. How she wanted to just go home—except her unknown enemy would still attack her there. She had to continue. “My preferences are unimportant. We need to know more and this appears to be the only means by which we can obtain information.”
“The man they caught, the anarchist. Will you be able to help him? It must be horrible to have that kind of spell on you. He will undoubtedly be grateful, and more willing to answer your questions.”
She had to tell him. “He may not even be aware of the spell. They aren’t…if the geas isn’t forcing him to do something he dislikes, it is possible he doesn’t even know it is there.” Ardhuin swallowed, smoothing the fabric of her skirt with a shaking hand. “In fact—”
A stir of motion in the hallway caught her eye. A dark shape joined the other defensive magicians, but it wasn’t Markus. He was accompanied by a tall man in civilian clothes. One of the defensive magicians pointed their direction, and the two newcomers headed their way.
The defensive magician was someone she had not seen before, but the other man Ardhuin recognized as being a Council member, von Mittern. He was the one who had first objected to her youth. She didn’t like him or his profuse muttonchop whiskers.
She stopped the obscurer and placed the pieces back in their case, to forestall questions. Part of her was glad von Mittern had interrupted her confession, but another part was filled with dread. What did he want? He was smiling at her in what he probably thought was a fatherly way, an effort that lacked the necessary skill to be convincing.
“My dear Fraülein Andrews,” he began, in heavily accented Gaulan. “Will you permit me to introduce Schutzmagus von Pelow?” He indicated the defensive magician standing beside him.
Ardhuin nodded, feeling awkward. Von Pelow was a handsome, fair-haired young man with pale grey eyes. He had a carefully neutral expression as he bowed to her, but she had seen the faint flicker of revulsion when he looked at her. Something about him seemed familiar, besides his reaction. Most people in the Imperial Palace were better at hiding their opinion of her appearance, or perhaps they had merely become accustomed.
She glanced at Dominic. He didn’t seem to like von Pelow any more than von Pelow liked her.
“His Majesty has made clear your protection is of the highest importance. Schutzmagus von Pelow is one of our finest
defensive magicians, and comes from a distinguished family that has long served the royal house. He would make a fine addition to your guard.”
Ardhuin blinked, astonished. It would appear von Mittern had accepted that the King was not going to make her leave and was now trying to curry favor—or perhaps he wanted von Pelow, for whatever reason, to have the prestige of being one of the defensive magicians guarding her.
She sighed. Court politics made her head hurt.
“I believe there is no need for any additional assistance, and if there is, I am not the one who selects the…Schutzmagus,” Ardhuin said, stumbling over the Preusan word.
Von Mittern waved away her objections. “A request from you would carry weight, I assure you, and he could replace a less able man. I understand Asgaya has been assigned,” he said, his tone conveying that he did not understand why such a mistake had been made. “I don’t see him here. I suppose he does not consider desertion of his post to be a serious matter, but what can you expect of such a one? Perhaps you don’t understand, my dear, but to a soldier that is a grave offense.”
Ardhuin found herself on her feet, hands clenched in fists. Von Mittern was tall, but she was gratified to find she could stare him directly in the eyes. “But I do understand. My brother is an officer in the Atlantean navy. I understand that making an unfounded accusation of that nature is a grave offense, as well.” Von Mittern started to sputter, but she continued, aghast at her own boldness. “Schutzmagus Asgaya is running an errand at my request. I have no complaint of his performance of his duties, and no interest in replacing him with anyone.” Her knees shook, and she dropped down on the sofa again to hide it.
Von Mittern was not giving up so easily. “You show a very unbecoming streak of independence, young woman. You should pay greater heed to the wisdom of your elders,” he said with a disapproving look.
“Is there a problem?” Gutrune von Kitren’s calm, quiet voice said unexpectedly.
Von Pelow turned his head sharply to look at her. Ardhuin drew a breath. Seeing them together, the resemblance was strong. Strangely, von Pelow looked angry—the first time he had allowed himself to openly show emotion.
Von Mittern didn’t look very happy either.
“We were discussing some needed changes in Fraülein Andrews’ guard,” he said.
“Do you wish any changes?” Gutrune asked Ardhuin in a mildly interested tone.
“No, I do not,” Ardhuin gritted.
“This is a matter of gravest importance to the security and defense of Preusa. We cannot risk having a foreigner in such a delicate position of trust,” von Mittern growled, his face growing darker.
“Foreigner? Are you referring to the Mage Guardian?” Dominic asked blandly. Ardhuin choked back a laugh.
Gutrune interrupted von Mittern’s convoluted apology and explanation. “If Fraülein Andrews has no complaint, there is no need to change the arrangements already made,” she said.
Von Mittern gave her a fulminating glare, a barely adequate bow, and left, followed by von Pelow with a set jaw.
Ardhuin looked up at Gutrune and gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you. I don’t know why he was so determined.”
Gutrune joined her on the sofa. “Schutzmagus von Pelow is his protegé. Serving on your guard could bring him to the notice of the King.”
That made sense. Von Pelow might not like her, but the position could bring the advancement he wanted.
“Is he related to you?” Ardhuin asked.
“My cousin,” Gutrune replied. Her face became even more expressionless. “He is very ambitious.”
“I am surprised Herr von Mittern did not argue with you,” Dominic commented.
Gutrune permitted herself a small smile. “I serve the King directly,” she said, indicating the small jeweled eagle pinned to one shoulder. “Herr von Mittern will not offend me if he can help it.”
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. No wonder her cousin seemed so resentful. Ardhuin sighed and wished once again for the uncomplicated life she had led at Peran. So many things to remember, so many people with conflicting schemes.
“Have they decided yet what they want me to do?” she asked.
Gutrune shook her head. “You must understand the news of the deliberate murders of the Mage Guardians came as a shock. It changes many plans that had already been made.”
Down at the end of the hall, Markus Asgaya became visible, walking towards them with an energetic step. When he reached the alcove, he said, “Everything is arranged. They are most eager for your assistance. The Lady Magus is going to help with the prisoner,” Markus explained, seeing Gutrune’s questioning look.
Ardhuin felt her heart pound. She had forgotten about the purpose of his errand.
“I recommend that you use one of the side gates,” Gutrune remarked, rising. “A mob has formed in the square.”
Markus sighed. “What now?”
“They found another body outside the Closure,” Gutrune said, nodding farewell.
9
Dominic turned to ask Markus why “another body” would precipitate a mob at the Imperial Palace, but he had already left. Ardhuin went to the workroom with the magical listening shield. When she returned she would not sit down, but paced impatiently, refusing to be drawn into conversation.
His frustration had several layers, really. Ardhuin had been on edge since Parys, and the more people she had to deal with the worse it got. The strict, formal setting of the Preusan court was very different from Peran and the Bretagne countryside, not to mention more populated. She was even more impatient with him, and he’d thought things were improving in that regard. Now, however, she wouldn’t even tell him what was wrong.
This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her become stubbornly silent and evasive. Even regaining consciousness after the ley lines, confused and in pain, he could tell she was trying to hide something from him. Then, it had been the knowledge of his shameful actions. Had he done something else to embarrass her? Was she angry with him?
He glanced down at the emerald rosebud stickpin and smiled. No, she was not angry with him. It had to be something else. He wished she would trust him with it, whatever it was.
Their departure from the palace was hurried and confused. Markus rushed them, surrounded by defensive magicians and soldiers, down the stairs and out to a waiting carriage. Dominic was pleased when Markus did not join them in the carriage, but rode beside it.
As they left the grounds of the Imperial Palace he could not see the mob Gutrune von Kitren had mentioned, but he could hear it. People were shouting something he could barely make out—something about blood. He was glad they had taken a side gate.
The carriage swayed as they went around a corner, and Dominic remarked, “They seem to be in a hurry.”
Ardhuin merely nodded and did not look at him. She wore the shadow hat, so he could not see her face.
Dominic sighed. There had to be something she was willing to talk about. “I did not tell you…I was invited to a gathering being held tonight by some of the students I spoke to, the ones I met at Siebert’s lab. If there are disturbances in the street, however, it would probably be best not to go.”
“I think we should,” Ardhuin said. “This could be useful.”
Surprised, Dominic blurted, “You want to go? I'm not sure—it might be awkward. Most student lodgings don't permit women visitors.” Then he shook his head in annoyance at his own stupidity. She didn’t have to look like a woman if she didn’t want to, and what on earth was he doing discouraging her? “But with illusion, of course, it will not be a problem. Why do you want to attend this party?”
“The students won’t know I’m not supposed to be told anything.” Ardhuin hunched a shoulder. “Besides, I don’t like it at the palace.”
Ah. Maybe this was the problem. “What’s wrong?”
Her gloved hands twisted together. “I think the only person who wants me here is the King. Everyone on the Council has some objectio
n. I’m too young, I’m female, and how can I possibly be the Mage Guardian of Bretagne when I’m Atlantean? So of course they don’t want to let me do anything. They just sit and talk.”
“I don’t think that’s unique to your situation,” Dominic remarked dryly. “Councils are famous for it.”
“But they are frightened,” Ardhuin said softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Very frightened. Why won’t they let me help them?”
Their entourage reached the entrance of what at first looked like one of the numerous military barracks of Baerlen, but Dominic caught a glimpse of the sign that read “Kaiserliche Kriegszauberkollegium” on the gate. Imperial War Magic College. The building was impressive in an austere way, with vast sweeps of unornamented granite and a front of tall, square columns.
Dominic helped Ardhuin out of the carriage, and he felt her hand trembling when she saw the entrance. He was not surprised to see a swirling cloud of black avoidance magic begin to surround her. This was the spell on the book of magic that had first gotten him in trouble, and he shook his head, remembering. It was obvious to him, but for everyone else it made Ardhuin very difficult to look at directly—and they would not notice that they were looking away.
It was another way of hiding, but this time he did not object. The presence of Preusan military magicians made it all the more likely they would try to prevent her from even entering—if they saw her.
Markus Asgaya was looking about, worried, until Dominic gave him a discreet nod.
“The Mage Guardian is here to examine the prisoner,” Markus informed the uniformed magician who had come to greet their arrival. The magician gave Dominic a stiff bow.
Dominic stifled the urge to correct his misapprehension. It would only complicate matters, and this way Ardhuin would be protected from notice. They followed the military magician up the stone stairs and through an echoing entry hall, then down a corridor illuminated by magically frozen flames. Dominic stared, wondering how it had been done and resolving to ask Ardhuin at the earliest opportunity.