Light in the Darkness
Page 92
It sounded like he was planning a war. Ardhuin had to admit that was probably the best way to approach it.
I can do this. I burned manacles off my own wrists. Dominic stared at the completely innocuous hotel that Madame Andrews honored with her presence, squared his shoulders, and went up the steps to the entrance.
Debate had raged long after Ardhuin had gone up to sleep and the conspirators could talk more freely about what was, to his mind, the largest obstacle. They had decided it would be best for Dominic to appear first, and alone. After a reasonable interval, Phillipe and Markus would make their appearance—either to continue to distract Madame Andrews, or to rescue Dominic from disaster.
Now, however, he began to wish they were with him. Too much depended on making exactly the right kind of impression. Such was his nervousness he had some difficulty making his request at the front desk understood. When the hotel servant returned and asked Dominic to follow him, he could only nod in response. Was Madame Andrews really going to meet with him, alone? The hotel staff didn’t seem to think anything of it, which was strange, too.
The servant knocked on the proper door, and when it opened Dominic understood why he had been asked to come up instead of more properly waiting below. A tall, bearded, older man with a strong resemblance to Ardhuin stood there, peering at him in a slightly near-sighted way.
“Monsieur Andrews?” Dominic gasped. Nobody had mentioned that her father was in Baerlen as well. “I am—that is, permit me to introduce myself. I am Dominic Kermarec, and I—”
“Oh, there you are!” A petite, golden-haired whirlwind suddenly appeared at M. Andrews’ elbow. “What excellent timing you have, for if you had been but half an hour later, we should have missed you, having left for the palace to seek you out!” Ardhuin’s mother gave him a brilliant smile, then looked up at her husband, still studying Dominic in silence. She tsked at him in exasperation. “Thomas! Your manners! He’s not a specimen in a glass case, you know. Do sit down. There is so much I mean to ask you—oh Thomas, would you be a dear and ring for tea?”
Stunned, Dominic followed the pressure of Madame Andrews’ imperious little hand and sat, only realizing when he made contact with the seat that he had forgotten to check that there was something to sit on. While she chattered happily about her trip and the amazing coincidence of meeting up with Phillipe in Baranton, Dominic struggled to regain his mental balance. At first he thought Ardhuin and her mother had nothing in common. Madame Andrews was delicate, tiny, exquisitely dressed, and never silent. Not a single golden hair was out of place. He had a sudden flash of memory, a vision of Ardhuin levitating out of the smoke and dust in Denais’ house, and had to choke back an entirely inappropriate laugh, thinking of her probable reaction.
Then he saw her quick, flashing smile, and the resemblance was there. Ardhuin just didn’t smile that much. He should change that.
“But how did you come to visit Peran?” Madame Andrews asked suddenly, and he gulped. Time to pay attention. He had to remember to keep his story straight—after all the hours they had spent coming up with it, it would be a shame to forget it now.
“I had the honor to pursue some research with Monsieur Morlais during my university years. He was kind enough to remember me in his passing, and it was my pleasure to assist in the disposition of his estate. It was then that I met your daughter,” Dominic said, hoping the mention was sufficiently casual.
“Do you know when she will return?” demanded Madame Andrews. “I can’t imagine how so many of her letters went astray like that. We had no idea where she was! Next time we go on one of your little trips to the ends of the earth, Thomas, we take her with us so I can keep an eye on her,” she said, shaking her finger at M. Andrews and scowling. Dominic’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Not that she would find it very amusing, poor girl. We did not encounter much civilization in our travels, did we dear?” M. Andrews shook his head. “But I am so delighted to hear Ardhuin is staying at the Imperial Palace. She used to be so reluctant to go out in society, and here she is, mixing with the most prominent people of Baerlen practically every day!” She gave a beatific smile.
When she isn’t embedding them in walls or uncovering their plots to overthrow the government, thought Dominic, trying to smile back. Fortunately, the tea arrived and allowed him a few moments to collect his thoughts.
“I knew she would enjoy herself if she would just make a little effort. I suppose there were a great many splendid parties?” asked Madame Andrews, handing him his teacup.
“Er, I was—that is, I believe so. I was unfortunately unable to attend. My business took up much of my time,” Dominic stammered, resolving to warn Ardhuin and Gutrune to make up some dazzling parties to describe. He could tell Madame Andrews would not be satisfied with anything less.
“Your business?” she asked, one delicate eyebrow raised.
“Monsieur Morlais had some…affairs of delicacy with the government here. I was asked to, er, complete them.”
“Oh, so that’s why you were staying at the palace too. How nice for Ardhuin to have someone she already knew…but I forget, you said you were not able to attend the parties. How sad!” She sipped her tea. “Uncle Yves had business with the government? But—” she stared at him, astonished. “Are you a magician?”
Oh dear. This was a complication their planning had not foreseen. “No, not at all, Madame. I am a writer, only. Er, a writer of works on magic, that is. Of course. Naturally. Otherwise how would we have met?”
“If they are delicate government matters, he will not be permitted to discuss them,” M. Andrews stated in a deep voice. Dominic was startled to hear him talk at last, but grateful that he had been rescued from his floundering.
Madame Andrews gave Dominic a look that was half apology, half mischief. “I will say nothing, I promise!”
A knock sounded at the door, which M. Andrews answered. Dominic knew who it must be before he returned.
“More guests, my dear,” he said with a humorous look. “They should be up directly.” He glanced at the tea table. “Will this be enough?”
Markus and Phillipe, already? How long had they been talking? Propelled by sheer terror, Dominic managed to stumble out an incoherent explanation of the real reason for his visit. “And I love her very much,” he mumbled at the end, trailing off in despair. He’d ruined it. Why would anyone want such an idiotic son-in-law? What had he said? He couldn’t even remember.
Then he was engulfed in a flurry of exclamations and soft kisses on both cheeks. Somehow, he managed the presence of mind not to drop his teacup.
“But this is delightful! I will confess, I had wondered…oh, how annoying that Ardhuin isn’t here! We have so much shopping to do.”
Dominic suppressed a shudder, imagining Ardhuin’s likely response. Noticing M. Andrews had not said anything and was looking thoughtful, he asked, “Sir? Do you have any objection?”
M. Andrews blinked at him. “Ardhuin has a good head on her shoulders. If she really wants to marry you, I don’t mind.”
As soon as Phillipe came into the room, Madame Andrews pounced upon him and told him the news. Markus stood there, looking dashing in his uniform, only the slightest quivering at the corners of his mouth betraying him.
“I beg your pardon for the intrusion, Madame,” he said, bowing gracefully. “I was looking for Herr Kermarec, and was informed he might be here.” He gave Dominic a significant look.
“Permit me to introduce Schutzmagus Asgaya,” Dominic said hastily. “Er, is it anything urgent?”
“No, it is merely that your presence is requested at the palace this evening, if convenient,” Markus said with a grin. “The project is expected to be complete this afternoon.”
He must mean Ardhuin’s ceremony, Dominic decided. In the general chatter, he motioned Phillipe aside.
“What the devil did you tell them?” Dominic asked in a frantic whisper.
“Why? Didn’t it work out?” Phillipe asked, looking surprise
d. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind. I did warn you.”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind! But they didn’t ask me anything. She’s delighted! The woman lives for fashion and society, neither of which I have any connection to.”
Phillipe bit his lip. “Yes, but I do, and you are my friend. Perhaps I encouraged her to think we came from the same circles—all you have to do is not correct her misapprehensions, so it isn’t precisely lying.”
“Well, if she tries to hold the wedding in the Rennes Cathedral she’ll figure it out fairly quickly,” Dominic snapped.
“Don’t worry, I dropped a few hints that you didn’t care for the social whirl,” Phillipe said in a soothing, quiet tone. “So, when is the happy day?” he asked, more loudly.
“Oh, there is so much to do!” exclaimed Madame Andrews. “I will need to sit down with Ardhuin and come up with a guest list, and decide where it should be—Baerlen is rather remote for most of her family—it will take at least a month. Why, we must still arrange for her trousseau!”
Markus shot a quick glance at Dominic and must have seen the horrified expression on his face.
“Madame, I must regretfully inform you that there are certain reasons—” he broke off and stared at Phillipe.
“Ah, you may speak freely in front of him,” Dominic said, solemnly.
Markus nodded and continued, “Matters of state, in fact, which would make the King and the government of Preusa greatly prefer a small, private ceremony, if at all possible.”
Madame Andrews’ face fell. “Oh, but…she will be so disappointed!”
“If she objects, then naturally I will respect her wishes,” Dominic said promptly, having no doubt at all what Ardhuin would decide. Markus gave him a wink.
“If Madame wishes, I would be happy to escort you to view the palace chapel,” Markus said, giving her another courtly bow. “I believe Madame will find it acceptable.”
“Oh, well, the palace,” Madame Andrews said hesitantly, looking more interested.
“You would not want to throw any difficulties in their way, my dear,” M. Andrews added. “There must be a very good reason for this request or they would not ask it.”
Madame Andrews threw up her hands. “I will talk to Ardhuin,” she said with finality. “You can’t simply deny her the most important day of her life on a whim.”
The granting of her ars magica degree at the university was quietly done to preserve her secret, but it was still impressive—the magical faculty in their rich robes gathered in the old paneled praesidium, taking their places in the steeply banked seats. Ardhuin kept the happy glow of knowing she was loved like a cloak about her through all the ceremony and attention that would earlier have put her in an agony of discomfort. She had worn a simple grey silk dress, thinking it the closest thing she had to an academic outfit, and then was dismayed at the rich colors and gold embroidery.
“Your robes are waiting for you,” her sponsor, von Westerhof, told her with a gently mischievous smile. He led her to a small room connected to the praesidium, where the Adaran sofon waited. The old man carried in his arms a robe of deep green silk brocade, cleverly woven in a pattern of leaves. Some of the leaves were picked out in delicate lines of gold embroidery, and down the front edging was the symbol she had seen in the Adaran tree: two birds flying over a mountain.
“The people wished to thank you for your defense of the Closure,” he said, and without any further words placed it around her shoulders. It was heavy, and rich, and the most beautiful thing she had ever owned. She told him so.
“Go, and speak the words,” he said simply, and smiled. He placed two fingertips briefly on her forehead. It felt like a blessing.
Armed with her new robes, she walked into the deep well of the praesidium and stood tall before the ars magica faculty of the University of Baerlen, the most famous in the world. The rustling of robes stilled and she felt every eye upon her, but instead of the fear that had been present in every other public appearance, she felt strength.
Ardhuin summoned power, gathered it, invoked the golden light of the gloire, and said the words. “Ecco, maga est!” Behold, I am a mage. The words of becoming. A statement, and a challenge.
And the faculty replied with one voice, “Veritas!”
Dominic extended his hand to help Ardhuin down from the train platform. “Are you certain he understood the telegram? I don’t see him here.”
She smiled. “He understood when I sent them before. Michel doesn’t like the trains. He’s probably waiting outside with the cart.”
Indeed, Michel, the sleepy old horse, and the battered cart were all waiting together outside. Seeing them, Dominic felt that he had come home at last. Michel followed in his customary silence to load the baggage.
Madame Daheron waved to him excitedly from the ticket window. “Are you back from your wedding trip at last, then?”
Dominic stared at her. “I beg your pardon? How did you know I was married?”
“Ah, it’s your servants that told me! They’ll be that glad to know you and your lady are back at last. They’re staying at the Chat Gris,” Madame Daheron added, looking severe. “You should have arranged to leave them a key, so they could prepare the house against your arrival. But no doubt you had other matters to attend to,” she said, giving him a motherly smile.
“Er, yes. Precisely. The Chat Gris, you said?”
He found Ardhuin, who took one look at his face and promptly asked what had happened.
“Do we have servants?” he asked, feeling bemused.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Well, somebody told Madame Daheron that’s what they were. Oh, and they knew we were married, too.”
“The King was very generous,” Ardhuin said, looking anxious. “He provided our entire wedding, but I doubt his generosity would extend to hiring servants for us. How strange.”
“Yes, I rather felt he was enjoying himself,” agreed Dominic. “Your mother was not expecting royalty. It was a near thing at times, but that did the trick.”
“Not to mention Markus looking romantic with his arm in a sling and flirting with her shamelessly,” Ardhuin said, grinning. “I wonder my father did not object.”
Dominic gave her a lofty look. “Your estimable father knew exactly what was going on, and was greatly amused. It was a pity they had to leave so soon afterward; I would have liked to spend more time with them both.”
“Really?” Ardhuin jumped up to the cart seat before either he or Michel could assist her. “Maman was talking you silly. She still thinks you are one of Phillipe’s well-connected friends, you know.”
Dominic stood looking up at her. “I liked discovering traces of you in each of them.”
Ardhuin stared at him. “I am nothing like Maman!”
“You are more subtle, of course. I suspect the moderating influence of your father,” Dominic said, smiling at her expression of shock and climbing up to sit beside her. “Even Phillipe commented on the resemblance. He was quite cast down to hear you had no sisters.”
She laughed. “You are making that up. I remember you telling me he has a great weakness for a pretty face.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Very true. Now, however, he tells me I am responsible for raising his standards to an impossible height, having introduced you to him. I don't suppose you have any female cousins instead?”
“He was just being polite,” she said, and sighed.
“It is not particularly polite to refer to your best friend's bride as a 'stunner,' ” Dominic retorted, “but you did smile at him. Perhaps you did not notice he didn't speak for nearly ten minutes afterward? Ever-talkative Phillipe?”
Ardhuin opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, looking puzzled.
Dominic had Michel stop at the Chat Gris. He was not entirely surprised to see Henri and his wife come out to greet them. Henri moved a little stiffly still, but both were much improved in health since the last time he had seen them a few weeks ago.
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“Estelle and I agreed it was only right, after what you did for us,” Henri said. His wife, a calm, pleasant woman, nodded.
“Are you quite certain you wish to be in another…a magical establishment?” Ardhuin asked carefully.
“Oh yes, madame. We are both accustomed,” Henri assured her.
Dominic exchanged a questioning look with Ardhuin. She shrugged. “I’ll, ah, send Michel back for you,” Dominic said. He got back in the cart and they started off again. He felt stunned.
“Dominic! How on earth are we going to pay them?” Ardhuin whispered urgently.
He shook his head. “How could I tell them no, after all they’ve been through? And you know, their experience will be advantageous. It isn’t as if you could find such servants anywhere you looked.”
“It will be nice, I suppose—oh look, there’s Peran!”
Her house—and his house too, now—was still intact, if a little weather-worn.
“The yard looks dreadful. I have a lot of work to do.”
“You need to work on your book!” Ardhuin said, shocked. “I suppose we’ll have to hire a real gardener next.”
The wards were still intact, but weak, and Ardhuin claimed none of her traps had been triggered. They both busied themselves with moving trunks and unpacking until the bell rang at the door, announcing Michel’s return.
“I’m going to have to come up with some way of adjusting the wards for them,” Ardhuin said, running down the stairs. “I don’t suppose they would welcome being shut out by mistake.”
In addition to Henri, his wife, and their minimal baggage, Michel deposited a large wicker hamper on the step before returning to his cart. Henri opened it, and a familiar orange-and-white cat jumped gracefully out and immediately began grooming himself.
“That’s not the same…I thought he was killed when the mansion collapsed!” Dominic exclaimed.
“Oh no, sir, he’s a very resourceful cat. Intelligent, if I may say so,” Henri said indulgently. “Everyone seemed to think he should come with us.”