by Barbara Howe
Lorraine flashed him a brilliant smile. I glowered.
“If you can convince her, which I doubt,” Paul said, “that some nobleman is a scoundrel, she might only demand the king strip the reprobate of his privileges for sullying the honour of her class.”
“If she does only that, and King Stephen agrees,” Sorceress Lorraine said, “I will rejoice. Such a precedent will be impossible to deny when the next scoundrel appears, and the next.”
Too bad Lord Edmund was dead. Too bad this conspiracy hid his crimes. If ever a noble deserved to be stripped of his privileges, it had been that reprobate.
“Finding an aristocratic scoundrel will be easy,” Mother Celeste said, “but a commoner even a queen considers virtuous will be harder. The only case I can think of straight off is—”
“Stop!” Sorceress Lorraine held up a hand. “Do not tell me your suggestion.”
“But you said—”
“We need a test case in September, but if you bring someone to my attention now, the Water Office may force me to act against him before the reforging.”
“Oh. Oh, dear.”
“Yes, you see the difficulty. If I had no conscience, I would bring a test case to the nobles in August, to shock the ones who, like the queen, believe the myths. But I do have a conscience, and I will not do so for a capital crime, although those are the ones most in need of reform. We must wait until after the reforging, and compare the new judgements with what might have been.”
“But,” Jean said, “if the other guilds identify exemplars of virtuous behaviour at odds with the Water Office, the Fire Office can protect them, on the basis their continued existence is vital to Frankland’s security. That will trump the Water Office’s claim on them.”
Sorceress Lorraine shot him a cold glare. “You need not sound so pleased about that.”
Jean’s eyebrows arched. “I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind. Are the other Officeholders willing to take this on?”
Mother Celeste, Beorn, and Enchanter Paul exchanged glances, and nodded.
Beorn said, “You betcha.”
Enchanter Paul said, “It will be a pleasure.”
They went on to discuss other matters, which I listened to with half a mind, as an idea took shape. The king wanted a demonstration, did he? We could give him one, beyond anything he had imagined.
Claire might never forgive me.
Maggie Archer
It would be fun, Sven said, to start a counter-conspiracy. Fun, my foot. He looked like he hadn’t slept in the three days since. Only René was cheerful, but he was not the scout testing our counter-conspiracy’s viability. If it wasn’t sound, I would be trapped. Sven and René would watch my every move from Sven’s fireplace, and could reach me within seconds, but their aid was not reassuring. The odds were we would all three become ensnared, our hopes of exposing the conspiracy dashed.
We watched the older earth witch give the younger one her final instructions, and, as one, breathed a sigh of relief when the younger witch picked up her baskets and headed for the tunnels.
René said, “I thought she’d never finish telling the life stories of all those people I’ve never met and probably never will meet. What does it matter? Why couldn’t she just say give Uncle Malcolm this liniment and Aunty Fee this salve, and be done with it?”
Sven tut-tutted at him. “It matters to an earth witch. She needs to spot new problems, not just deliver medicines for existing ones.”
I said, “I’m glad she’s out of that guild house. The traces of the conspiracy made my skin crawl.”
“She’s in the open air now. My supposition was correct; she’s too young to be deeply entangled. There are less than half-a-dozen filaments clinging to her. If we’ve done it right, it should be easy.”
“If,” I said, without moving. “Are you sure we’ve covered everything?”
“We’ve been over this a dozen times,” Sven said. “You’re dealing with a single member of the conspiracy. You’ll be fine.”
“You’re stalling,” René said. “Move.”
He ducked my fist as I stepped through the fire and out onto the Abertee hillside. Below me houses clustered around a tunnel mouth. “Hazel,” I called.
She turned, startled but not panicked. Surprise gave way to pleasure. “Lucinda, what a nice surprise. What are you doing here?”
“Checking up on Abertee. Do we need to still keep an eye on the White Duke? If you’re making your rounds would you mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all. If word spreads that the Fire Guild is still keeping an eye on us, that will help keep tempers under control.”
From a distance, Hazel had looked as serene as always. Face to face, I saw shadows under her eyes and traces of distress not there before. “You’re still worried,” I said.
“Oh, yes. Abertee looks calmer since the duke let the Archers come back, but it’s deceptive. All around me, I sense short tempers and deep-seated resentment. If he tries again to push the Archers or any other freeholders off their land, the pot will boil over again. Or if they capture the fugitive blacksmith. He’s a good man, and means a lot to people here. Everyone I’ve met claims to be either his cousin or his best friend. If the Water Guild executes him for killing Lord Edmund, an angry mob will march on the White Duke, Fire Warlock or no Fire Warlock.”
Her first patient could hardly see, but still-sharp ears and mind latched onto the news that she had a fire witch along. While Hazel spread salves on the old man’s arthritic joints, he lectured me on the Fire Guild’s failings in keeping the peace and protecting the rights of the commoners. Mindful of Father’s admonitions to respect my elders, I listened with clenched jaw and murmured polite acknowledgment whenever he paused for breath. Concurring with everything he said didn’t make it any easier to take.
The next patient gave me a similar earful. When we left, I said, “I understand now why Abertee yeomen have such a reputation for being troublemakers. Neither of them seemed the slightest bit awed by either of us.”
Hazel smiled. “They were awed, but they’re too proud to show it. It drives their overlords nuts. I love it—I feel at home here.”
As we walked towards the tunnels, I studied the black strands of the conspiracy draped on her. They hung limp, unaffected by the copper-coloured filaments of the counter-conspiracy we three had created. Just as Master Sven had predicted. I probed, as he had taught me. They seemed undisturbed—again, as he had predicted. So far, so good.
He had drilled into me what I needed to say, and when and how to say it. I would start the script after we emerged from the tunnels, if no one else was within earshot.
We stepped through. A tall beauty entrapped by the evil filaments sat on a rock wall beside the tunnel mouth, sniffling over her knitting. Hazel gave her a warm hug.
I blurted, “You’re Maggie Archer.”
Both women blinked at me. Maggie wiped away tears. “Aye. Who are you? I’ve never seen so many flames on one hat before.”
“You probably never will again,” Hazel said. “This is the Warlock Locksmith, the highest-ranking fire witch Frankland has had in decades.”
“Really?” Maggie breathed. “Wow.”
A girl after my own heart. “You have an affinity for the Fire Guild, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I can boil a cup of water by holding it in my hands.” She blushed. “That’s nothing next to you, I’m sure. It’s not enough to make me a witch, I know, but—”
“Nonsense. Can you bake?”
She gave me a blank stare. “What?”
“Do you bake?”
“I make the best bread in this valley.” It was a flat statement of fact, not opinion.
“Then you’re a fire witch, even if the guild won’t accept you. At least that’s what the retired Fire Warlock would say.”
&nbs
p; She smiled, her tears forgotten. “But how did you know me?”
Sven’s script flew out of my head. “I, uh, that is, after Hazel brought the news, I searched in the fire for what had happened. I watched Lord Edmund paw you, and your brother hit him. And I…I’m sorry about your brother.”
Tears again filled her eyes, and she turned her head. I looked at Hazel. “And I take back what I said in Blazes. He did the country a service by getting rid of that wretch.”
Hazel’s shoulders slumped. The filaments surrounding her and Maggie came to life and reached towards me, questing like blind snakes. She said, “You know the secret now, don’t you?”
The copper-coloured strands surrounding me rose, and sent black ends to meet the black strands. Hazel was almost an earth mother—I didn’t dare lie. My hands trembled, and my heart raced. I said, “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Lucinda, what’s the matter? What did I say that upset you?” She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the rock wall. “Sit down. Talk to me.”
The black strands writhed, thickening, and danced away from the strands of the counter-conspiracy. The contrast between my gentle friend and the loathsome cords surrounding her agitated me further.
“I see the engine of lies,” I blurted, “and it appals me.” I parroted René’s voice in my head. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing and pull somebody else in. I want to understand what I’ve gotten into, so I don’t make it worse. Can you help?”
The strands stopped writhing, but remained poised in mid-air. I sat on the wall next to the staring girl and practiced deep breathing, exhaling slowly.
Hazel said, “Shouldn’t you talk to Warlock Quicksilver?”
“No. I’d have to admit I found out after he warned me away.”
Maggie said, “You’re talking about what Lord Edmund did, and the secret around it, aren’t you?”
The black ends of the copper-coloured strands reached the black strands and coupled. I shivered.
Hazel chewed on her lip for a moment. “It’s a hideous secret, and I’m sorry you found out about it. I can tell you what I know, which isn’t much. It was started a long time ago by the Fire Warlock called Old Brimstone—”
“The fifty-seventh.”
She shrugged. “Could be. As far as I know, the conspiracy stops the truth about a rape from being shown in court, even if everyone knows what happened. The Water Office will never convict a nobleman, because it won’t see the truth. That’s all I’ve heard.” The strands relaxed and thinned. I began to breathe more easily.
Maggie jabbed a knitting needle at me. “She said you’re the highest-ranking fire witch in Frankland. What are you going to do about it?”
The filaments soared. “Me?” I bleated.
René yelled, Get away from her.
She glared at me. “Somebody has to do something. It doesn’t sound like anybody else will.”
I scrambled to my feet. Hazel grabbed my arm. “Maggie,” she said, “you don’t understand. She can’t. The only one who can expose a conspiracy from the inside is the one who started it, and he’s long dead.”
The strands stopped writhing. They hung motionless in mid-air. I sat down again on the rock wall and bent over, my head in my hands.
Maggie said, “You mean we can’t ever get rid of it? That’s horrible.”
Neither of us answered. Hazel put an arm around her shoulders. The strands relaxed once again, returning to their limp, lifeless state.
Maggie’s tears splashed onto her knitting. “I don’t want anyone else to go through what Fiona went through. I wish I knew what to do. I’d do anything to get rid of it.”
Hazel and I looked at each other over her bowed head. I said, “Be careful what you wish for, Maggie.”
She raised her head and looked me square in the eye. With a jutting chin, she repeated, “I wish I knew what to do. I’d do anything to get rid of it. Anything.”
Master Sven’s fingers drummed a soft tattoo on his desk. “Hides the truth from a trial, does it? That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.”
“Yeah,” René said, “because it means Lucinda’s right. It’s not part of the Water Office, so it will keep on working the same way after the Water Office is fixed. If we don’t break the conspiracy, high-born slime will still get off scot-free.”
“Yes. Despite my misgivings I have to admit you two may be right—we have to expose it.”
I said, “How do we do that?”
“There are three ways to destroy a conspiracy. The best, and easiest way—”
“Is not open to us,” I said. “Old Brimstone died more than two hundred years ago, and he wouldn’t have agreed to stop it anyway. Next?”
“The second preferred method is to overpower it with stronger counter-magic.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” said René.
“With the four Officeholders, most of the Water and Earth Guilds, and Warlock Quicksilver in on it,” Sven said, “no, that option isn’t open to us either. A conspiracy draws its power in direct proportion to the strength of the magic talents involved, so—”
“That’s why you can’t expose a conspiracy you’re a part of, if you aren’t one of the creators, right?”
“Right. It’s a vicious cycle—the harder you struggle against it, the more power it sucks from you, and the tighter its grip.”
“Ugh,” René said. “What’s the third way?”
“Expand it until it includes so many mundanes it collapses under its own weight. The higher the ratio of mundanes to talents, the harder it is to sustain. Besides, once it reaches a certain proportion of the people who might care, what’s the point?”
We considered that in silence for a few moments. Comparative silence, anyway. Master Sven’s drumming escalated to a hard rat-a-tat-tat. I put my hand on his. “Stop that. I can’t hear myself think.”
He snatched his hand away and crossed his arms, tucking his hands in against his chest. “If you weren’t so bright I’d tell you to do your thinking somewhere else. Drumming helps me.”
René said, “Is the third option any better? With so many witches and wizards already in on it, we’d have to tell nearly everybody in the country. There’s no way we can do that.”
Sven’s eyes unfocused and he resumed drumming softly. “No way? What an interesting challenge. The Air Guild can—disseminating news, edicts, et cetera is part of their domain.”
“Yes,” I said, “but they do a lousy job of it. Any news we want propagated across Frankland takes forever to get out. Only the news we don’t want spread, like Lord Edmund getting himself offed, sweeps the country in a matter of days.”
“That’s true,” he said, “but the fact that bad news travels so fast shows it can be done.” He dug a clean sheet of paper out of a stack and started scribbling. “I have some ideas. I’ll do some research, and let you know what I find.”
René said, “The Fire Warlock’s asking where I am. Got to go.”
I rose to follow René. Sven said, “You. Sit down.”
He jotted down a few more lines, then jammed his pen in the inkwell. “I couldn’t say this in front of René, but it’s time you told me everything. I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.”
“What do you mean? I’ve told you all I know.”
“Look, Lucinda, you know I respect Quicksilver. He’s the best Fire Warlock we’ve ever had, but…”
“But what?”
“And I don’t like prying into what goes on between a husband and his wife, but…”
“Sven, what are you talking about?”
“You interrupted me when I started to describe the easiest way to destroy a conspiracy.”
“I did?”
“You did. Tell me, what is the easiest way?”
“You convince its creator it’s no longer needed, and he undoes the spell.”
I barged to the door, sending a stack of books toppling. “He couldn’t have.”
“A hundred years to undo—”
“I’m not listening to any more of this.” I yanked on the door so hard it slammed against the wall. More books tumbled over. I didn’t pick them up. I fled without troubling to close the door.
Braided Locks
“I protest,” Enchanter Paul said, “most vehemently. We do not need to go underground. I am not budging.”
Beorn growled, “Didn’t you hear what Jean said? This amber box we’re in is great for blocking eavesdroppers, but it couldn’t hold up to a serious display of fire magic. Celeste wouldn’t appreciate us burning her furniture.”
“Furniture? Who cares about the furniture? What about the prospects of burning us?”
My stomach knotted. I should never have implied the fire magic might get out of hand. Sorceress Lorraine sat silent and unmoving, her eyes closed, her hands strangling the chair arms.
Jean’s eyes flashed. “The risk is not great, but one cannot use powerful magic without risk. You should know that.”
Mother Celeste said, “I know you don’t like being shut up in small places, but from the description of the practice room, it sounds more to your liking than this room. And it is extraordinarily generous of the Fire Guild to take outsiders into such a protected place.”
“It’s much bigger,” I said, “with a higher ceiling, and skylights.”
“But it’s underground,” Paul said. “I barely tolerate being shut up in this box, even though it is above ground, with nothing but a ceiling and roof over us. I could break out if I had to. Furthermore, Warlock Quicksilver indicated the only way to get there is through the Earth Guild’s tunnels. That is what I object to the most.”