Lokkin coughed discreetly to break my reverie. “Shall I show you around the library? Or is there anything in particular you require?”
Lokkin found me a quiet alcove almost hidden behind massive pillars, well away from the bustle elsewhere, and brought me a few books – the treaty with Bennamore, some histories of the place, and an atlas showing the principal towns. I thought I ought to find out something of my employers’ home.
Within half an hour, a servant arrived with a trolley bearing a pot of brew and some small pastries. A little while later, some hot items arrived. This was on Ish’s orders, I was sure. I was quietly pleased by the attention, and even more pleased to see nothing of Ish himself. The less I saw of him, the better I would like it. There was nothing to be gained by it, and a great deal to be lost. I was determined not to hurl myself at his feet in girlish adulation like an idiot.
When I left the library, I found myself very close to the western gate. It occurred to me that Hestaria, the missing mage, might have left by a different gate the day she vanished. Perhaps that was why no one remembered her leaving. Was that possible? There was an easy way to find out.
I marched across to the western gate. It was closed, and a bored guard eyed me without interest.
“Name?”
“Mistress Recorder Fen of Carrinshar. I came in by the southern gate.”
“Ah. Pass?”
Out came my disk again, he wrote down the number and himself pushed open the gate for me. That was disappointing. Whether going in or coming out, Hestaria’s passage would have been recorded. It seemed there was nothing odd about Hestaria’s visit to the Hold after all.
~~~~~
A few days later, Gret, the other mage, returned. All the Bennamorians huddled together in Losh’s study to hear the results of her search for Hestaria. Since she arrived alone, I presumed it had not been successful.
I met her at evening table, a middle-aged woman with iron-grey hair and a severe expression, with a rather more tasteful tattoo on her forehead than her fellow mages. Halfway through the meal, she picked up her plate and moved to sit next to me, shooing Mal aside.
“So. You were married to this Holder fellow. What is he like?” Her tone was gruff, without an ounce of civility.
I had no idea how to answer her, so I just raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, come on! No need to play the innocent. Is he the sort to mistreat a woman?”
I was too shocked to speak, but her face softened a little.
“Look here, girl, you can see how it is. Hesta goes into the Hold, she attends this meeting they are all so blasted secretive about, the meeting ends but she stays on to talk privately to your Holder friend. That is the last anyone sees of her. So the suspicion is natural, do you not agree?”
It’s difficult to think straight when a woman not much older than I am addresses me as ‘girl’, but I grasped the one new point. “She talked to him privately?”
“Yes, did you not know that? Do you people not talk to each other? Hmph. Mallaron has been making enquiries, and apparently your Holder asked her to stay on after the meeting broke up. No one saw her after that.”
“But she left. Her name was in the book.”
“Oh, but that is easy enough to do. When a person leaves by the same gate, the guard just notes the hour and adds his mark alongside the name. It is there, right enough, but it could have been added later. The mark is unreadable, and no guard admits to seeing her leave. You see? And there is nowhere else she could be. She is not in Bennamore, and I have made enquiries at every decrepit inn and hovel on every road from here, and no one saw her. I say she never left the Hold. So, once again, is your Holder a man to be trusted with a woman?”
“Of course!” I spoke proudly, but I saw Mal watching me, his face unusually solemn, and remembered his warning that he thought Ish was lying to me. Was it possible? But why?
There was no time to ponder the point, because Gret had moved on. “So. The marriage ended because you were barren.” Losh flapped his hands at her, but she carried on, quite oblivious. “But why did you run away?”
“Gret, I really don’t think—” Losh began, but she waved him to silence.
“Nonsense, Losh. It really is not healthy to keep all these secrets. Far better to have her history out in the open.”
“She is a guest in our house,” Losh said sharply. “We treat her with courtesy, please remember that, Gret.”
“She is an employee! Courtesy is all very well, but it should not be a mask to hide behind.”
Mal slammed his knife down on the table. “She’s a professional, performing an essential duty,” he spat. “We couldn’t work here without her, especially me. She married me to allow me to stay here. You will respect her status, Gret, or you will answer to me for it.”
There was a long silence as Gret and Mal glared at each other. I supposed it was sweet, in a way, that he jumped to my defence like that, but why did he think I was incapable of defending myself? It was presumptuous of both of them to talk about me as if I wasn’t there, like a child.
But the time for secrecy was long past.
I coughed. “I ran away because there was nothing to stay for.”
They all turned and stared at me, Gret triumphant and Mal glowering. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, Fen.”
I practically hissed at him. “What does it matter now? You’ve already blabbed everything I told you in confidence.”
He had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just thought… Sorry.”
“I ran away, if you must know, because everything I had was taken away from me. My husband, my future, my position…”
“But you were the Holder’s heir!” Gret said. “Is that not so? You left your father without an heir.”
“That’s not how it works.” I sighed. “It was a treaty marriage. It’s like any other contract, if the terms are broken, the contract is broken and the parties to it lose everything. It’s exactly the same when a business fails. The owner loses all status, all rights.”
I thought of poor Master Krend, my previous employer, forced to kill himself to avoid taking his whole family down with him.
“So I went from Honourable Fendristia to Worker Fen overnight. My mother, Goddess bless her—” I tried to speak lightly, but I had to take a deep breath to force down the anger bubbling up. “My mother wanted me to supervise the kitchen servants. She thought that was appropriate for a disgraced daughter. Can you imagine? I wanted to train as a recorder at Shannamar, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Her daughter earning an honest living under her very nose! Whatever next?”
“So you ran away,” Mal said softly.
“You could have married again,” Gret said, her voice harsh. “Is that not what women do when they have no other recourse?”
Losh tutted, and Mal glared at her. I supposed I should have been offended, but I found her honesty refreshing.
“That or the brothel,” I said.
Gret gave a bark of laughter. “At least you avoided that fate.”
Only just. Goddess, if only they knew how close I had come.
Nor had I wanted to marry again. Have some miserable merchant or shopkeeper taking pity on me, sidling into the Holder’s family by way of my bed, his greasy hands all over me? I shuddered. It was an appalling prospect. And after Ish, unthinkable. I’d wanted no other man in my bed, and I hadn’t wavered from that in twenty years. Well, apart from one moment of weakness with Mal, but that wouldn’t happen again.
Mal pushed his plate away. “Of course she wouldn’t want to marry again, Gret. She had a husband already.”
“Nonsense!” Gret said. “The marriage was finished. Is that not so, girl?”
I could only nod. I couldn’t bear to talk about Ish.
“He shouldn’t have left her,” Mal insisted.
I shrugged. He’d gone back to his family to rethink his life, just as I’d had to do. I hadn’t blamed him for that, it was expecte
d. But when he never returned for me – yes, I’d certainly blamed him then. We’d both been left with nothing, both had to start again, both had our lives to rebuild. Surely our love was strong enough for us to do that together? How many times had he told me he’d never leave me, no matter what happened? Yet at the first cold wind, he was gone.
When I’d crept out of Shannamar Hold in the middle of the night and caught the early morning public wagon out of town, I’d meant it as a test. Surely he would look for me and find me, would rescue me from poverty and loneliness? It might take a while, for I hid well, but one day I would open a door or turn a corner or look up from my mug of brew and there he’d be, smiling at me, his eyes filled with affectionate joy. I would run into his arms and the world would be right again.
“But what I cannot understand is this,” Losh said plaintively, breaking into my thoughts. “If both of them lost all their rank and the right to be heir, how is it that Fen is still living in very humble circumstances, while he is exactly where he started, and not just the heir, but the Holder. How is that possible?”
“Precisely!” I snapped. “And if you find an answer, do let me know, because as far as I’m aware, it’s against the law.”
12: Witness
The following evening, Mal took me out for a meal. A shower caught us halfway, so we dashed from doorway to doorway, or ducked under jutting balconies, giggling like children. Even so, we were drenched when we arrived, water dripping from his hair and the hem of my coat.
He’d found a different platter house this time, unobtrusively tucked into a nondescript side street and with a plain wooden door and a simple sign outside, unevenly painted. Inside, however, the white linen cloths and imported candles in gleaming silver holders proclaimed its true nature. A troop of servants whisked our wet coats away to be dried, and fussed around as if we were royalty.
“What are we celebrating?” I asked suspiciously. He’d bought me a lovely new skirt and blouse that day, arriving home from the tailor triumphantly with the parcel under one arm. It crossed my mind that perhaps all this generosity might be leading up to something.
“Do I need an excuse to take my wife out for evening board?”
“Not as far as I’m concerned. We can do this as often as you like.”
The food options arrived on a fleet of wheeled tables, the slabs of meat or fish artfully arranged and surrounded by vegetables carved into the shapes of flowers or birds or trees. We were able to make our choices without leaving our seats while we sipped our wine. For a fleeting moment, I thought how pleasant it would be to live like this for the rest of my life, cosseted, well-fed, elegantly dressed… Then I looked across the table at my giant of a husband grinning inanely at me, and dismissed the thought. I’d rather be poor.
“Actually, I do want to talk to you,” he said, the smile slipping, as we waited for our selections to be cooked.
Ah. There had to be a catch, didn’t there?
“Gret…” he began, then sighed. “Gret has her good points, but tact isn’t one of them. I’m sorry about the interrogation last night. I had to tell Losh about your history, but he would never have said anything to you. I didn’t intend it to be public knowledge.”
“Goddess, it doesn’t matter!” Although it did. Secrets I’d kept for twenty years were now a subject for gossip amongst the Bennamorians. Not that it was Mal’s fault, but it was a bit late to apologise. “It would have come out anyway, sooner or later. If I had said nothing, Ish would have told you, eventually.”
He grunted, eyeing me with a curious expression on his face. “Well, it’s done now. But there’s one thing Gret brought up that we do need to talk about.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“The possibility that Hestaria never left the Hold.”
“Ah, that. You want me to tell Ish that I think he’s a liar and an abductor, do you?” My voice rose, and he leaned backwards, away from my vehemence. “Shall I ask for a tour of the prison cells? Or do you want me to search every corner of the Hold, in case she’s locked away in a high tower like a princess?”
I was rigid with anger, my hands shaking, but he sat calmly. Our first dish arrived just then, so I had to bite back my rage while the servers flaked the fish for us, and arranged little bowls of vegetables.
When they’d gone, he leaned forward, his voice low. “I just thought you could suggest the possibility that something happened within the Hold. See what he says. Because I don’t think he’s taken it seriously, so far.”
I groaned in exasperation. “The Hold is stiff with guards and Defenders and servants and gardeners and a hundred other types. Do you really think anything could happen to her without someone witnessing it?”
“Very true,” he snapped. “And yet, if nothing at all happened, she would have left the Great Tower by the southern door as usual, walked the hundred paces to the southern gate, passing three laundry workers, four stable hands, an entire squad of Defenders drilling and four guards manning the gate. Yet none of them saw her.”
“Hmm.” I had to concede he’d been very thorough in his investigations. “Perhaps she went out a different way?” He shook his head. “I suppose you asked around outside the Hold, too?”
“Yes, both her usual route and the other possibilities. But she always went the same way, according to Gret. Hestaria was a timid person, and not comfortable on the streets alone, so she kept to the way she knew best, where she felt safe. And she usually stopped at a small shop along the way which sold some Bennamorian delicacies. The shop owner didn’t see her that day.”
“Why go to the Hold at all, then, if she felt uneasy?”
“Oh, she was flattered by the attention. Being called upon by the Holder himself, asked for her advice, treated as an honoured councillor. She loved all that. Completely under his spell. So Gret says, although she’s a jealous old bat, she saw mischief everywhere as far as Hesta was concerned.”
Another dish of food arrived, and in the bustle I had time to realise he was right. There was something odd about it all, and the oddness began and ended at the Hold. Maybe they were covering something up? Everyone who worked there was loyal to the Holder. To Ish.
Could they be trusted? Could Ish himself be trusted?
“You thought Ish lied,” I said, as soon as we were left alone again.
Mal’s face closed in at once. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget about it.”
Forget it? How could I forget such a thing? “You told me not to trust him. There must be a reason—”
“Fen, don’t. It was a mistake, let it go.”
“Well, you can’t just call him a liar and then back away from it! Explain it to me. Tell me how you know—”
“Can’t do that,” he said curtly.
“Oh, it’s all right for you to have secrets, apparently, but I’m not allowed any.”
I regretted my words as soon as they were out of my mouth, because he looked so stricken. More food arrived, and after that we chewed, and passed each other bowls and dishes, in silence.
When every morsel was consumed, we sat back in our chairs and toyed with our wine glasses. I intended to say nothing to him - he could speak first, if he chose. I didn’t even want to look at him, I was so cross. It seemed he had the same idea, so we maintained an awkward silence.
I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to leave things that way between us. I disliked the relentlessly cheerful Mal, but I hated it when he was cold and unfriendly. And the honest part of me knew that he was right to want to question Ish.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll ask him, if you like. What do you want me to say?”
He beamed at me, his mood instantly sunny again. “That’s my sweet wife! I knew you’d see sense.”
I had to restrain myself from hitting him.
~~~~~
In the event, there was no need for me to ask Ish anything, for he raised the subject himself. The next time I was in the library, sitting hunched over my books, I caught a waft of his distin
ctive perfume behind me. I’d discovered at the moon feast that it was a popular scent with many Dristomarians, but still I couldn’t resist spinning round to see the cause, an optimistic smile stretched across my face. Dragon’s teeth, why couldn’t I be more dignified, a little less obvious?
It was indeed him, his face alight with pleasure, leaning forward for the kiss, his hands reaching for mine, even though it was hardly appropriate to be so familiar in such a place. To my annoyance, I blushed.
When I’d managed to straighten my thoughts, I noticed a Defender standing a few paces behind Ish, gazing with studied detachment into the distance.
“Ah, Fen, this is Commander Kestimar. Since we last talked, I have been making a few enquiries of my own about this mage who has vanished into the mist, and finally I have had a little success. Commander, will you tell Mistress Recorder Fen what you told me?”
“Very Honourable, Sir.” He clicked his heels and made a formal salute to Ish, then stood stiffly to attention, gazing at a point just beyond my left shoulder. “On the day in question, I had been executing some commissions for Very Honourable ab Dristomar. I had just left the Great Tower, and was making my way towards the northern gate, where I intended to enter the town to pursue some personal commissions.”
It was formal stuff, presented as if for an inquiry. He was unusual, this Commander, his eyes coal-black in sallow skin. His beard was an odd shape for his rank and profession, more like a craftsman’s style. He had a strong accent, too, not coastal, and not Bennamorian, either.
“The gate was unusually crowded,” he went on. “A group of street peddlers and entertainers had gathered in the hope of finding employment within the Hold. The gate guards were in the process of dispatching them, when I noticed the female mage Hestaria just leaving through the gate. Because of the press of people present, I believe the guards failed to notice her departure. I left myself moments later, and saw her disappear down the narrow alley between the Red Sun Inn and the basket-maker’s shop. The following day, when I had occasion to visit the southern gate, I noticed that the mage’s name had not been marked correctly to indicate her departure. I therefore took it upon myself to correct this omission.”
The Mages of Bennamore Page 12