The Mages of Bennamore

by Pauline M. Ross

  Ah! Thank you, High Commander, now I know why you’re here. That was very helpful.

  “Indeed I cannot. Our power is not in armed force. We have no more than a handful of Defenders to protect us. They cannot withstand the mighty army of Bennamore.”

  The compliment softened his face somewhat. Men are so stupid sometimes. “Well, then?”

  “This is a large town, with a great many buildings to search. Moreover, there is a vast network of tunnels beneath the surface. You will never find the people you seek.”

  He lifted his chin, eyes sparkling. “Then I shall raze this miserable town to the ground, Lady.”

  Oh yes, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? A nice mark to leave on the annals of history for a new young High Commander.

  I bowed. “I do not doubt it. But you will still have failed in your objective. You will also have lost a great deal more than you gained, because you have forgotten something, High Commander. While your strength is in your army, ours is in ships. By the time the last building in Dristomar has been reduced to ashes, our fleet of sword ships will have sailed along the coast and up the Shannamar River to Bennamore. You have a number of towns along the river, I believe? And we too know how to raze towns to the ground. This is the warning I have come to give you.”

  42: The High Commander

  I stood defiantly, looking the High Commander straight in the eye.

  He stared back at me. “You dare to threaten me?”

  “To warn you,” I said firmly, amazed at his cheek: the man heading a vast army accusing me of threats. “But I know where the mages are that you seek. I can take you to them, so that you can see for yourself that they are in no danger.”

  “Ah, so that is your game, is it?” he said softly. “I am supposed to tamely follow you, am I?”

  Good point. Why should he trust me?

  “If you wish, High Commander, I will stay here as hostage, and the mage guards here will lead you to the mages. The tall one is my husband, so you may have faith that he will not betray you.”

  A glimmer of interest as his eyes flicked from me to Mal and back again. “He certainly looks like a convincing mage guard,” he said thoughtfully, “but how do I know he is not an impostor?”

  An excellent question! It would be easy enough for a man to shave and dress himself in the uniform. He was smarter than he looked, this young High Commander, and I smiled my approval. “You may test him, if you wish.”

  He looked Mal up and down. “What town are you from, Mage Guard?”

  “Yannitore latterly, Excellent Sir.”

  “Name the Kellon’s family there.”

  Mal rattled off a list of names, then there were some questions about streets and shops and landmarks in the town, and then some more about Kingswell, the capital.

  The High Commander grunted, apparently satisfied. “And the mages are well?”

  “Perfectly well, Excellent Sir.”

  Another grunt. “Very good. There will be no need for you to become a hostage, Lady. If this is a trap, I daresay you are intended as a willing sacrifice. I would rather keep you with me.” Yes, a very smart man. “You may take me to the mages. But first you had better clear away that rabble.”

  “Rabble?”

  He nodded towards the boundary stone, and I turned to look. A disorganised crowd had gathered, drawn no doubt by the still tolling alarm bells. Some of them were uniformed Watchers, armed with batons, but most were equipped with pitchforks and spears and knives, and one or two, former Defenders perhaps, carried swords. They watched us in silence.

  I clucked with annoyance. Despite my claims to speak for Convocation, which were true enough outside the bounds of Dristomar, I had no authority at all within the town itself. Fortunately, the Watchers’ leader was a sensible man, who had seen me talking to the Bennamorians and understood the problem. He efficiently organised his men to reassure the crowd that they were in no immediate danger of invasion, and push them back to a safe distance.

  The High Commander went off to give orders to his juniors and we went back to our horses, waiting quietly near the boundary stone. Now that the worst had passed, I was quivering from head to foot. I ducked behind the stone and was violently sick.

  Then there was the dreadful ride back through the town, bumping about behind Mal’s broad back, trying to stop my teeth chattering and wishing I could just get down and walk. The High Commander was seemingly unable to go anywhere without a full squad of blank-faced juniors, all weighed down with a fearsome array of weaponry. Illegal, of course, to carry arms through the streets but I wasn’t about to tell them to leave their swords behind. The army they brought gave them the right to do as they pleased.

  We clattered into the Rillett House yard, stable workers rushing out to take the horses, eyes round. This time it was Wornest who caught me when I fell.

  Losh, bless him, rushed out to greet us. “Fen! Are you all right? I was so worried! Is everyone safe? Thank the Gods!” Only then did he turn to the High Commander.

  The poor house controller, who never knew from one hour to the next what odd company we might bring home, was tersely giving orders in the hall. Losh scurried in and shepherded the High Commander and several of his minions into the table room.

  I made to follow them, but the High Commander stopped me. “I need to talk to the mages. Alone.”

  Fine. I had no problem with that. Besides, I’d missed noon table, and left the remains of my previous meal behind the boundary stone. I was starving. I grabbed Mal’s hand and dragged him through to the kitchen to collect a tray of food for us both, and a jug of wine. And, after a moment’s thought, a second jug.

  “Where are we going?” Mal whispered.

  “Upstairs.” I giggled.

  Now that the encounter was over and had passed off successfully for the moment, I was exhilarated. I had done it! I had stopped an army, for now, and even if the Bennamorian decided later that he had to follow the Drashon’s orders to the letter, at least he knew the consequences of that. And I was hopeful that a chat with Losh would settle the matter.

  I ate a little food and drank a little wine, and my hunger abated.

  “Are you all right?” Mal said. “Because – you weren’t, not then. Back at the stone.”

  “I’m fine.” I giggled again. “Better than fine. I feel – good.”

  He was sitting on the window seat with his plate, and I sidled across to him, lifted the plate from his hands and sat down next to him, pulling his head down for a long kiss.

  “Mmm, this is… mmm, very nice, but shouldn’t we be… I don’t know, mmm, rushing off to the harbour, or something? Or listening to glass balls? There’s a lot going on just now.”

  “The harbour alarms are quiet.” Kiss. “The glass balls are quiet.” Kiss. “The army is being taken care of.” Long kiss. “Now I want to take care of you.”

  He chuckled. “And I expect you want me to take care of you, too.”

  I nodded eagerly. “You said you would if I wanted to, didn’t you? Please?”

  He didn’t need to be asked twice. We pulled off clothes, and kissed, and clung to each other, and kissed again, and as soon as we were half undressed he lifted me onto his lap and thrust into me with a deep groan. Dragon’s scales, it was astonishingly good. I was on fire, almost as much as when Dern had messed with my mind, and Mal was just as desperate. It was the stress of the encounter with the army, I suppose, and the release from it that lit us both up like a bonfire. When we’d finished, he held me tight as we both shook with laughter.

  Later, we undressed properly and got into bed with the tray of food and the wine, sating our other hungers.

  “You know, my love,” he said, mumbling a little because his mouth was full of bread, “you were magnificent today. At the stone, I mean, although – in other ways, too. But the way you stood up to that man – you’re a natural at these games.”

  “I’ve been well trained. My father taught me everything.”

  “You�
�re a credit to him. But there’s one thing I don’t understand.”

  “What’s that?”

  “All those titles – you being the heir and all that. I know that’s not true, but there wasn’t a blue flare.”

  “Ah. That.”

  “It isn’t true, is it? I mean, you lost all that – being an Honourable and an heir and everything – didn’t you?”

  “Yes. After I failed to prove, I lost my rank.”

  “And you weren’t the heir any more?”

  “The Designated Heir? No. That was lost too, although my father never admitted it. But he never appointed another Designated Heir.”

  “So—”

  He was silent, chewing his lip thoughtfully, his brow wrinkled with concentration. I watched him carefully, seeing the exact moment when he worked it out.

  “Oh. The law was changed.”

  “Yes.”

  “But only if you prove.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” He looked at me, his face such a mixture of fear and desperate hope that I just wanted to take him in my arms and rock him. “Oh, Fen… are you pregnant?”

  I nodded, and to my dismay his face crumpled as if he was about to burst into tears. He slid down the bed and curled under my arm, burying his face in my shoulder.

  “Mal, what is it? It’s good news, isn’t it? Aren’t you pleased?”

  “Yes.” Muffled. He lifted his face. “No. I mean, it’s good for you, and I’m pleased about that, but… but now you’ll go back to Shannamar and be a great lady again and… and I’m pleased about that too, because it’s what you’re good at, but…”

  “No, no, no.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to go back to Shannamar.”

  He brightened. “No?”

  “Nothing’s changed. Well, obviously something’s changed, but it doesn’t make any difference. My father will make Zand the Designated Heir and—”

  A scratching at the door. “Wi’ r’spect, Mis’ress, but you’s wanted int table room.”

  Mal sighed. “This was so pleasant, too.”

  “Are you all right about this?”

  “Of course. I’m happy for you, Fen.” But there was a bleakness in his face.

  We dressed slowly, Mal because he had all his guard’s gear to disentangle and put back on and buckle and tighten, and me because I somehow didn’t want to dive back into the world of high politics and hostile army leaders and, quite possibly, war. It was lovely to shut the world out and be with Mal, like any normal married couple. Although perhaps lounging in bed in the middle of the afternoon wasn’t entirely normal.

  My clothes were still damp from the rain, so I pulled a new skirt and blouse from the wardrobe. But the skirt felt uncomfortably tight, so I tossed it away and brought out a gown instead, much to Mal’s delight.

  “You see, my sweet? You look much more like a great lady now.”

  “I suppose I shall have to buy some more clothes soon,” I grumbled.

  But I was relieved that he knew all about it now. I’d carried the secret for a moon or more, at first disbelieving, but then worried in case he felt I’d used him. I’d always imagined I could never have children, that the failure with Ish was surely my fault, and knowing that he’d had a child later only confirmed my suspicions. So I’d never taken the herbs against pregnancy. Now I wondered about the time I’d had kelter fever, and whether Losh’s healing had affected other parts of me. Whatever the reason, I was glad of it, and glad that Mal was easy about it, too.

  We were just about to leave the room when he turned to me.

  “I suppose it’s mine?” he said casually.

  I was so stunned I couldn’t speak for a moment. Then rage swept through me. I slapped his stupid face as hard as I could, and stormed out of the room.

  I had to stop in the hallway outside the table room to catch my breath and cool my anger. Then, head high, I walked in.

  “Ah, Fen! Come in, come in.”

  Losh beamed at me but it was the High Commander’s face I sought. Without his helmet, he looked older, his hair short and ugly, over a thick neck, but his expression was less stern than before. That was reassuring.

  He looked me up and down, and nodded, as if I’d met some invisible standard. “Do sit down… erm… How do you wish to be addressed?”

  “Fen will do very well.”

  “As you wish. Sit down, Fen. We want to talk to you about these ships flying the Bennamorian flag.”

  “Oh. But what about the army?”

  “Oh, that.” He waved a hand airily. “Lord Mage Losh has explained everything to me, and although it is not entirely satisfactory, I believe the mages are in no danger. Now, tell us about these ships. What can be done about them?”

  I was speechless. The man had been a hundred paces from hurling us into the midst of a war which would have devastated large parts of his country and mine, and hadn’t even realised what he was about. Nor, more worryingly, had his Drashon, who had sent him off dreadfully unprepared. He hadn’t realised the terms of the treaty, and he certainly hadn’t any idea of the capabilities of Holding sword ships, or how vulnerable parts of Bennamore were. But then, the treaty had been drawn up in a great hurry last year by the former High Commander, who had then died, so perhaps no one in Bennamore quite knew what to do next. But ignoring us for a year and then sending an entire army on a whim was not sensible behaviour.

  “Fen?” Losh said gently. “The ships?”

  I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. “What can be done about them? Very little.”

  “Can you not sink them?”

  “At the harbour mouth? Not a good idea. Fire, just as bad. Better to wait. It is a matter for Holder Dristomar to deal with.”

  His eyebrows rose. “But these ships are flying the Bennamorian flag. It is quite unacceptable! It is deliberate deception, an insult to the Drashon to pretend that we are the villains here. I cannot allow it.”

  I smiled at that. I wonder what he thought all his thousands of men could do about it, without ships, weighted down with heavy armour and mail, with no experience of sea battles.

  “High Commander, the ships are a strategic move in a game. Once the move has been played out, the ships will be gone, you may be sure. Any intervention will result in loss of life, destruction of valuable vessels, damage to the sea defences. It is not worth it. It is the consequence that is of concern – that one Holder may accrue power over all the others. That is what matters.”

  He argued the case, of course. He had no interest in the political struggle being played out at Convocation, and to Bennamore, one ruler to deal with was easier than a hundred, but he disliked any perceived insult to Bennamore. He was young and wound up for a fight, and if he wasn’t required to battle his way through the streets of Dristomar, well then, he would point his sword somewhere else.

  And that gave me the glimmer of an idea. I pulled my chair closer to the High Commander’s and lowered my voice.

  ~~~~~

  It was almost dark when the door burst open and Zand bounced in, wearing an enormous grin. “Fen! Just the person – oh!”

  His smile slipped very slightly when he saw the High Commander, but he recovered almost at once. “The High Commander I presume.” He bowed low. “The Blessings of the Goddess to you. I am Honourable Zand of Shannamar, Presumed Heir of Holder Shannamar.”

  The High Commander looked at him and then at me, and his lips twitched. “Your brother, I take it?”

  I nodded. “As is the other one lurking by the door, too shy to enter. They are here for Convocation. But what are you doing here so late, Zand? Today’s meeting finished hours ago.”

  “Ah, but there you are wrong. Everything stopped for a while, so that Holder Dristomar could see what the fuss at the northern boundary was about, but by the time he got there, the matter had been sorted out. But you know about that, of course.”

  “Something about it, yes.”

  He chortled with
glee. “So I hear. By the time he got back, it was afternoon and so we just carried on arguing. It was very exciting. Father always said Convocation was very dull, but it was not dull at all, not today.”

  “Zand got them all to agree,” Zenish put in. “He was amazing.”

  “It was easy, nothing to it.” Zand shrugged.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What did they agree to?”

  “Oh, right. They agreed to have one voice speaking for all the Port Holdings in dealings with Bennamore. Not a king, but a Speaker, someone who can negotiate with Bennamore but knows all our ways too. It was Garann’s idea, and it was a good one, was it not? The delegates were nervous about having a king, but they all liked the idea of a Speaker, after I explained it to them. What do you think?”

  A Speaker. I caught Garann’s eye and he gave me a little smile. I remembered our conversation about giving too much power away. He must have dreamt up the idea from that. Yes, it was a good idea. Ish as king – that would not be a good way forward, but Ish as a Speaker, simply an intermediary – that would work. An important Holder, but still only a Holder, with no more rights or powers than any other Holder.

  “Yes,” I said. “It is a good idea. I like it.”

  Zand and Zenish laughed and exchanged glances. “And do you want to hear the best part?” Zand said excitedly. “You will never guess!”

  “Go on, tell me.”

  “We agreed who it would be, as well. All on the same day. Can you believe it? I never thought I could get that done today. But it was.”

  “That is excellent news, especially since the High Commander is here. This would be a perfect opportunity for a Speaker to start work.”

  They chuckled again. “Absolutely.” More peals of laughter.

  “Zand,” said Garann. “Tell Fen the whole of it.”

  “Oh, very well. Do you want to know who it is? Who we elected?”

  “Oh. But surely it is Holder Dristomar?”

  “Not at all. No one wanted him. No, it is you, Fen. We all agreed. You are the first Speaker of the United Independent Port Holdings.”

  It was too much. After all the tumultuous events of that long, long day, events that had set my emotions churning like a leaf propelled through the rapids, I couldn’t cope with this on top of everything. Me as Speaker? Drawn back into that world of political wrangling, not as a minor player, one amongst many, but thrust into the very centre of the maelstrom? No, never.