Dristomar. The town that once had held all my dreams. I had imagined coming here so many times, but never like this, an anonymous visitor. Still, it was better this way. Who would notice a drab forty year old woman travelling with mages? Above all, I wanted to avoid being noticed.
8: The Rillett House
Our accommodation, chosen by the previous mages, was called the Rillett House. Like most coastal properties, it was named for the first person to occupy it, and would keep that name for ever more although no one called Rillett had lived there for generations. It sat right in the middle of the merchant quarter, with high walls, its own stables and carriage house, and a yard given over to chickens and big tubs of herbs.
The house controller, a stout woman of my own age, was there to greet us, and a long line of house servants in well-pressed uniforms, bowing low. Three others were waiting, too – a pair of mage guards and a recorder. That shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.
The recorder drew me aside at the first opportunity. “Excuse me, Mistress, but are you here officially? We weren’t sure, you see.”
“Officially?”
“As recorder. The messages weren’t very clear, given your particular circumstances.”
“My—? Oh, being married to one of the guards, you mean? That was just to satisfy the legal requirements. I’m still the recorder for these mages.”
“But I am recorder here, you know. I have a contract.” His voice was petulant.
“I think you will find that I have a contract, too,” I said coolly. I had no intention of sitting around being a dutiful wife while this man took all the fees from under my nose.
Fortunately, Losh was on my side. “Oh, no, no. We are used to Fen, you see. No, you will have to go, I am afraid.”
The man puffed out his chest, and frowned, a move that might have been impressive had he not been a skinny twenty-year-old.
“Perhaps Lord Mage Losh will pay off your contract?” I put in quickly. I wasn’t sure that such a solution would occur to Losh in time to defer an argument, so I thought it best to get in first. He could afford it, I knew that.
The recorder’s eyes grew round, and his chest deflated like a sail when the wind drops.
“Oh, yes, I can do that,” Losh said, beaming.
The two guards were harder to deal with. Losh was all for sending them back to Bennamore.
“Oh, no, we can’t leave,” one of them said. “When we heard what had happened to you at Carrinshar, it seemed a good idea to get ourselves some wives, like Mal. We didn’t mind. Well, it’s only a year, isn’t it?” The two men grinned, exchanging smirks. “The Holder was very helpful about it, he even suggested a couple of girls from the Hold who would be willing. They work here in the house now, so we have to stay too.”
The Holder suggested them? I didn’t like the sound of that. “What do they do?” I asked.
“They’re needle-workers.”
I rolled my eyes. “Needle-workers? Living in? You must think this is the Hold. Lord Mage Losh can dismiss them, then you two can go and live with your wives’ families.”
They looked horrified, and even Losh protested.
“We don’t need two extra guards,” I said firmly, “and we certainly don’t need needle-workers. Far too expensive.”
They all started talking at once.
“Extra guards are always useful.” Mal’s commanding voice rose above the babble. “Besides, someone has to find out what happened to Hestaria.”
To my disgust, that settled the matter. The guards were to stay, to find out where the mage Hestaria might have wandered off to. She had gone to visit the Hold, it appeared, but had not returned to the house afterwards.
“What was she doing at the Hold?” Losh said, in bewildered tones.
The guards shrugged. “The Holder liked to have one or other of the mages present at certain meetings with his advisors.”
“But why?”
“No idea. It was all secret stuff. Strategy, treaties, high level Holder business. She definitely left the Hold, but then – nothing. Gret assumed she’d gone back to Bennamore, and shot off after her.”
“Poor Gret.” Losh shook his head. “She must be distraught. She and Hestaria were like sisters. Well, we will find out the truth in time, I am certain. But first, let us look over the house. It is not so large as the last place.”
The house was built on the standard plan, a solid main building with two floors as well as basements and attics. A massive table room, with seating for fifty, took up one side of the ground floor, and the other side had two rooms, one set up to receive the mages’ clients, and the other a study.
The upper floor had the usual two suites, normally assigned to the Master and Mistress of the house. I’d assumed the mages would take one each.
“How many other suites are there?” Losh asked.
“Only these two,” the house controller said.
“Then Fen must have one of these,” Losh said. “Corsell and I will take the other.”
The house controller threw me a curious look. I’m not sure I managed to suppress the triumphant expression on my face. One of the suites! I’d expected a large room, since there weren’t hordes of indigent relatives to house, and hoped for my own bathing room at best, but one of the two suites was beyond my dreams. It didn’t quite compensate me for my lovely tower apartment, but it would do. It would very much do.
The remainder of the upper floor, normally divided into a dozen small bedrooms at least, currently had just one, where the recorder had been ensconced. The rest of the room was left open.
“This is wonderful!” Kael said, throwing his arms out, and spinning round in glee. “I can practise here, can’t I, Father?”
“I – yes, I suppose so. And the bedroom – you’re happy with it?”
“Oh yes! So much space! I can collect things, can’t I?”
I rolled my eyes. The man was thirty at least, and could shoot flames from his hand, yet sometimes he seemed little more than a child. But Losh smiled at his enthusiasm.
“What about the guards?” I asked. “I’d expected them to have rooms here.”
“They chose the attic, Mistress,” the house controller said, with the merest hint of amusement on her face. I tried not to laugh. The attic was where the children usually slept.
When we went up the stairs to look, it was divided in the usual way, with wooden partitions creating small cubicles, each with a curtain for privacy. At either end was a pair of rooms with more solid walls, for the servants or low-ranking family members who looked after the children at night.
The two existing guards had one pair of rooms, and Mal, Lenya and her horse-master would take the other pair.
“Will you be comfortable here?” I whispered to Mal.
He shrugged. “I’ve slept in worse.”
“You should be downstairs, really, in that big empty room Kael has commandeered. Plenty of space for all of you there. The house controller could have the walls put up in no time.”
He gave me a wry smile. “No point in trying to prise that room away from him now. This will do me fine.”
~~~~~
Later, when the boxes had been unloaded, and I was kneeling on the floor of my room unpacking, I found Mal loitering at the door, leaning against the jamb.
“Are you unpacked already?” I asked.
“I travel light. I don’t like acquiring unnecessary things. Unlike you, my sweet, by the look of it.” He ran a finger idly along the spines of my books, my precious collection. One day, I told myself, I would have a permanent home, and could buy books without having to sell any first. The need to pack and move at regular intervals was a sad hindrance to avid acquisition.
“I don’t have unnecessary things, either,” I protested.
“What about these jugs? They don’t even match.” He picked one up from the floor. “Oof, it’s heavy. Where do you want it?”
“On the mantel above the fire. It’s solid pewter, that’s why
it’s heavy.”
The jug held in mid-air, he looked at me quizzically. For an instant, my heart pounded. I wondered if he detected something odd in my voice. I feigned unconcern, concentrating on unwrapping the final jug. To my relief he said nothing more, arranging all four jugs in a neat line on the mantel, then standing back to admire them. They were a mismatched set, I had to admit, but that wasn’t the point of them at all.
“It’s not as nice as your tower room,” he said, wandering round as if he owned the place. “The view’s not as good either. A few roofs and the sea. Lots of sea.”
“True, but it’s better than facing up the valley. At least from here I’ll see the dragons when they fly past.”
He burst out laughing, then saw my face and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you’re serious? You really believe dragons still exist?”
“I know they exist. My— I know someone who’s seen them. They live far to the west, but they’re sometimes seen here, away out over the sea.”
He grunted. “But you’ve never seen them yourself?”
“No. One day, perhaps. They ring the bells at the Hold when they’re spotted. I should get a good view of them from this window.”
“Lucky you. At least you have a view, and a window you can open.” He shrugged and half-smiled, but he sounded glum.
On a whim, I jumped to my feet. “Come and have a look at this.” I opened the door to the dressing room and ushered him inside. “You can sleep here, if you want.”
It had been furnished as a bedroom, with a comfortable sofa and chairs, a desk and two or three rugs, as well as a low bed. There was a window looking over the stable-yard to the street just beyond the walls. I’d wondered quite what to do with it, but the answer seemed obvious now.
His face lit up, but he said, “Are you serious? You realise I’d have to pass through your bedroom to get to the washing room?”
I nodded. “You were very well behaved on the journey, so I trust you not to take advantage. The rules are still the same, but this would be more pleasant than the attic, wouldn’t it? And I’d feel safer having you here.”
He grinned at me, a broad smile that radiated pure pleasure. “You’re an angel, my love. I’ll go and get my things.”
Within an hour he was ensconced, his small quantity of belongings scattered about as if he’d lived there for years. The mysterious locked box, which the carpenter had only just finished screwing to the floor in the attic, was unscrewed again and hauled through to the tiny room by two stout menservants. The carpenter trailed behind with her tools to fix it to the floor all over again, throwing dark looks at Mal and muttering under her breath about the whimsical ways of foreigners.
~~~~~
Dristomar turned out to be an improvement on Carrinshar in many ways. The Holder was very supportive of the mages. There had been some trouble, but he had clamped down hard on the protesters, arresting the worst trouble-makers and cowing the rest into submission. He had been helpful over the annual wives, and allowed the guards to escort the mages, fully armed, without any accompaniment.
The previous mages had found plenty of clients, too, who came to the house and willingly paid their silver. Again, it was the Holder who’d set the pattern, calling on their services for his own family, and encouraging the wealthy to take advantage of them. That surprised me. What I’d heard of the Dristomar Holder didn’t quite tally with this amiable picture. Discreet enquiries of the house controller explained the change.
“Oh, the old man died some years back. We had a female Holder for a while, but there was another change last year. This one is – quite different.”
I detected a note of caution in her voice. “You don’t like the new Holder?”
A hesitation. “It’s not for me to like or dislike him, Mistress. He’s hard on transgressors, but that’s not a bad thing. It was just… a very sudden change, that’s all. Unexpected. But the Convocation wanted a man back in charge, I expect. A swordsman… after the fighting last year.”
“Well, if he’s helpful to the mages, that will be an improvement on Carrinshar,” I said lightly.
“Oh yes, he takes a great interest in the mages.” She sounded sour.
She was called away then, and I was left to wonder just what she meant.
There wasn’t long to wonder, though, for we had barely been in the house an hour before a messenger arrived from the Hold, with an invitation to the two mages to meet the Holder.
“He suggests tomorrow morning,” Losh said, in excitement. “We will accept, of course. We can take everyone – ‘and party’, it says. That means everyone, I assume. Is that correct, Fen? We can take the guards?”
“Yes, although they’ll have to leave their weapons at the door. That’s the rule. Only the Holder’s own Defenders can be armed inside the Hold itself.”
“That is perfectly acceptable,” Losh said. “Very good. I shall send word with the messenger that we will all come. That will be – how many, Kael?”
“Seven. Or ten if we take the other two guards and the old recorder. Twelve with the wives.”
“Oh, no, no. This is only to meet the new arrivals. Seven, then.”
I did the sums in my head. “Wait. Are you including me?”
“Of course.”
My stomach turned over. “No. I mean… there’s no need for me to go, surely? It’s just you he wants to see, isn’t it? The Bennamore contingent.”
I glanced at the messenger, but he was impassive. “The mages and party,” he repeated, his voice flat.
“Oh, but you must come with us,” Losh said, and Kael nodded, his face anxious. “You are one of us, you know. Come as Mal’s wife, if you think it improper to be there as our recorder.”
I chewed my lip. It was the last thing I wanted, but what was the risk, really? I turned to the messenger. “Is this a formal audience?”
“Informal meeting with the Holder, his wife and son,” he intoned.
That sounded safe enough. “Very well. I’ll come.”
But I wasn’t quite easy about it, all the same.
~~~~~
That night I slept badly. I had the dream again, more vividly than ever. This time there was no Mal sleeping impervious beside me to provide reassurance. I lay awake for hours, eventually falling into a restless doze close to dawn.
It was crazy, I told myself. Who would know me, here? I’d never been here before, and everyone was a stranger, surely? There couldn’t possibly be anyone here I knew, anyone who could recognise me. Not after all these years.
I dressed in my best skirt and blouse, my old waistcoat, since I owned no other, and my fine new coat. I added my smart sealskin hat and gloves. Even in all my finery, I looked exactly what I was, a plain, middle-aged woman of middling rank and no importance. I hoped it would be enough. Disappointingly, the mages weren’t wearing their robes – they only wore them when on magical business, it seemed. Still, they would be attracting all the attention. I could skulk, unnoticed, at the back.
We hadn’t far to walk, for the Hold was in the very centre of the white district. Most Holds were positioned on a ridge or promontory to emphasise their importance, but the Dristomar Hold had no need to raise itself up artificially. Its great towers gave it enough elevation to loom over the buildings nestled in its shadow, even though many of them boasted four or five storeys.
We entered through the southern gate, and were admitted at once, without any protocol involving checking lists or runners sent to consult with superiors. The guards bowed to us deferentially, and a squad of Defenders materialised from nowhere to escort us. We had no fewer than three Commanders to show us the way and smooth our passage. It was rather gratifying.
I was fascinated to see Dristomar Hold at last, in all its glory. The splendour of its halls was famous throughout the coastal regions. Seeing it now for the first time, I had to agree that its reputation was well earned. We ascended a broad staircase, then passed through one pillared gallery after another, all laid in gleaming marble, wi
th gold-painted decoration on the walls and ceilings, and massive fires burning in long central hearths.
From time to time a courtyard would open up on one side or another, filled with statuary or fountains or elegantly trimmed evergreen trees, with not a stray leaf out of place. One courtyard was roofed with glass, and filled with exotic palms and brightly coloured vines. Another was full of moonroses, some just unobtrusive greenery, but many showing their great flower spikes.
It was awe-inspiring, intended to impress visitors, although it wouldn’t be a comfortable place to live. The towers around the perimeter housed the living quarters, furnished with the usual quantity of rugs and soft chairs and cosy well-heated rooms. Or so I had been told.
Eventually we reached the largest hall of all, where the formal audiences and courts were held. Today, to my relief, it was empty except for a number of Defenders, immobile but watchful along the walls. We turned aside, into a series of ante-chambers.
Here, at last, was the little group we had come to meet. Three people were standing across a small circular room, lined with marble busts and pots of ferns on high plinths. The Holder, his wife and child, in stylish but informal clothes. They smiled and moved towards us with words of greeting.
I froze. I could see only the Holder, his white-blond hair falling in soft curls to his shoulders. The wife and child vanished, no longer registering in my mind, as if they were shrouded in thick fog. The mages, the guards no longer existed. There was only him, his face unchanged after all this time. I stood transfixed.
He hadn’t seen me. He smiled and nodded, greeting one or other member of the party, moving nearer. He was speaking to the others, but I couldn’t make out the words. They were far away, a hum of meaningless noises.
I couldn’t move. This vision was impossible, a nightmare, trapping me in some world where the illogical seems as vivid and normal as real life. It could not be true, yet this was no dream, it was reality. I couldn’t take it in, couldn’t believe it.
He saw me. All the colour drained from his face. He looked as shocked as I felt.
“Fen?” He took a few steps towards me.
The Mages of Bennamore Page 8