And Randor may think he has to have input into her final choice, she thought, morbidly. It wasn’t uncommon for magicians to have long strings of lovers - she’d given up trying to learn the names of Imaiqah’s boyfriends, as they were gone before she’d memorized them - but aristocratic women were meant to be chaste. It had better be someone tolerant - or at least understanding.
She made a mental note to discuss the issue with Imaiqah later, then looked back at Jade’s mother and father. Sir Hawker - he was a Knight of the Allied Lands, not unlike Caleb’s father - was a tall buff man, wearing a suit that managed to look both expertly tailored and ill-fitting. His face looked like an older version of Jade’s, but he had a set of nasty scars running down the left side of his jaw and he was missing a handful of teeth. One of his eyes even looked slightly out of place, as if it was a size too large for the eye socket. Beside him, Galina looked small and fragile; it was hard to believe that she was a qualified Chirurgeon who’d followed her husband on a dozen hunting expeditions through the Allied Lands. There was something about the dark-haired woman that nagged at Emily’s mind, something oddly familiar. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.
She’s a surgeon, Emily reminded herself. A Chirurgeon was a non-magical doctor and surgeon, to all intents and purposes. Lady Barb had told her that they were to be respected; they might have no magic, but they could still save lives if given the chance. True Healers were in short supply. She isn’t someone to be underestimated.
She twisted her head slightly until she could see Alassa, sitting next to Jade. Her friend’s face was a perfect mask, suggesting she was more worried than she cared to let on. She might be relieved that Jade’s family didn’t have any unfortunate problems she’d have to deal with, but their lack of status would reflect badly on them. Emily had wondered why Alassa didn’t simply arrange to have them raised to the peerage, like Imaiqah’s father; Alassa, when asked, had pointed out that it would look bad. The aristocrats would assume that it had been done merely to smooth their son’s path to marriage, rather than as a reward for good service.
Madness, Emily thought. She’d endured two days of being measured by the tailors - again and again and again - while her dresses were fitted. They should just run off and get married in Beneficence.
The servants returned to collect the plates, removing the remains of the dinner. The scraps would be taken out of the castle and given to the poor, according to Imaiqah; Emily had a private suspicion that the best parts would be eaten by the servants instead. She allowed herself a moment of relief - roast meat, overcooked potatoes and gravy was a little too heavy for her - and sat back in her chair. The only good thing about the whole affair was that the guests were staring at someone other than herself.
“We’re having the first rehearsal tomorrow,” Imaiqah said. “You will be coming, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Emily said. “I didn’t think I had a choice.”
Imaiqah winced. “Go tell that to the bridesmaids,” she said. “The children aren’t so bad, but the older girls...”
Emily frowned and took a closer look. Imaiqah had always been more mature - more stable - than either her or Alassa, but she looked tired. Too tired. She looked worse than she had on the fourth day of their exams, her face pale and wan. Emily would have unhesitatingly prescribed sleep, if she’d had a chance; Imaiqah had been running herself ragged just trying to keep up with the arrangements.
She cursed under her breath. “Are they that bad?”
“Half of them seem to think they should have been appointed Maid of Honor,” Imaiqah said. “The other half seems to think they can do whatever they like and no one will give a damn or try to stop them. Several of the little brats haven’t had their dresses finalized yet because they keep sending them back for minor changes, while a couple of others are insisting on being in the front row because their families have always had that right...”
“Madness,” Emily said.
“They’re going to have to explain themselves to the Queen if they turn up tomorrow without their dresses,” Imaiqah added, savagely. “And they’ll find a way to blame it on me.”
“I’ll support you if they do,” Emily promised. “I thought they wanted to play a role in the ceremony...”
Imaiqah snorted. “Half of them are taking part because it’s a way to pretend they’re close to Alassa. Half are only there because their parents forced them to go. Half will only cooperate if they’re placed in prominent positions; the other half then starts objecting because they’re not in the front row.”
“That’s four halves,” Emily pointed out.
Imaiqah glowered at her. “You know what I mean.”
Emily nodded, ruefully. Alassa’s wedding was the social event of the year, as far as the nobility was concerned. It was important that they be seen to take part in the ceremony, even if all they did in reality was turn up at the right time and look good. Emily didn’t pretend to understand the complex network of social rankings and obligations that pushed and pulled the aristocracy in different directions, but she was glad she didn’t have to handle it. She didn’t envy Imaiqah at all.
“And I have to coordinate with Nightingale,” Imaiqah continued. She shuddered, dramatically. “Every time I talk with him, I feel like taking a long bath.”
King Randor tapped his knife against a glass for silence, then rose. “It does me great honor,” he said, “to welcome the mother and father of my future son-in-law. I bid you all make them welcome.”
A loud cheer ran through the room. Emily looked down at the lower tables, silently wondering who’d shown genuine enthusiasm - and who’d cheered only because they knew the king would see their silence and remember. The aristocracy might have good reason to be grateful that Alassa was marrying Jade, but the introduction of two newcomers into the nobility - two newcomers who couldn’t easily be dismissed - would upset all their petty little games of power. Who knew? A Beast Hunter might prove a dangerous enemy if provoked by an insult to his wife.
“We shall now retire to my private chambers,” the king added. It was, Emily knew, a way of closing the formal part of the evening. Someone could leave the room now without anyone taking offense. “I thank you all for coming.”
He turned and strode out of the room, followed by most of the high table. Emily glanced at Imaiqah, then followed the group through a pair of heavily-warded doors into one of the king’s private rooms. It was far smaller than the hall, of course, but considerably more comfortable. Alassa had told her, once, that it was where her father let his hair down, where he was no longer burdened by the iron rules of kingship. He could be human when he wasn’t being watched by a crowd of power-hungry aristocrats.
And he has no enemies here, Emily thought. Queen Marlena, Alassa and Jade, Hawker and Galina, Imaiqah and Emily herself...Lady Barb had been invited, as had Frieda, but she’d declined the invitation and offered to teach Frieda a few tricks she needed to know. There’s no one here who would turn against him at the drop of a hat.
She glanced at the queen and frowned. Marlena looked...weaker than she remembered, her face so pale Emily honestly wasn’t sure how she managed to stand upright. Emily briefly considered one of a handful of diagnostic spells, but none of them could be cast without the Queen’s permission. She’d have excellent medical care, Emily reminded herself; King Randor would make sure she had the best in the world. Perhaps, like Imaiqah, the strain of orchestrating the wedding was getting to her.
But she wasn’t well last year, Emily recalled. Why...?
She pushed the thought aside as King Randor made a show of taking off his crown and placing it on the table. Emily sensed magic crackling around the crown, warning her that only one person could wear it safely. Even without charms tied to a specific bloodline, she knew she wouldn’t be able to wear it for long. Alassa had been practicing wearing a heavy crown from the day she’d started to walk and even she couldn’t wear her crown for more than an hour without developing aches and pains
.
“You may all speak freely,” Randor said. A handful of servants arrived and started to distribute drinks. “No one can hear us here.”
Except for the servants, Emily thought, sardonically. She sniffed the liquid in the glass and placed it on the table. She’d had enough experience with drunken people to know she didn’t want to risk becoming a drunkard herself. And you won’t forget what anyone says...
“I thank you, Your Majesty,” Jade said.
Randor smiled and looked at Hawker. “I heard about your adventures in East Haven,” he said, seriously. “It was quite an impressive account.”
“The broadsheet writers are prone to exaggeration, Your Majesty,” Hawker said. “There were only four centaurs involved, not forty.”
There was an awkward pause. “So,” Imaiqah said, into the silence. “What actually happened?”
Emily concealed her amusement as Hawker leaned forward. “There was a raid on a small village by a group of centaurs,” he said. His voice grew more confident as he talked about something he understood. “They killed three men and carried off seven unmarried girls. I was in the area and tracked them to their lair, where I killed all four of the centaurs and saved the girls. They had yet to work their will on their captives.”
“You made the region safer,” Randor said. “That is not a small achievement.”
“The forests have too many pockets of wild magic, even now,” Hawker said. “There are places most people won’t go, Your Majesty, even if they have a small army and a dozen sorcerers at their back. I’ve seen giant spiders overrunning villages, trees and bushes given unholy life; I even saw a handful of men become monsters once they were touched by wild magic. Purging the whole place of wild magic is beyond us.”
He sighed. “And there’s a Faerie Ruin in the exact center. It is said that anyone who walks into it never returns. I encountered a man who claimed to have walked into the ruins a hundred years ago, only to emerge long after everyone he knew was dead, but it was hard to say if he was telling the truth.”
Alassa leaned forward. “Truth spells?”
“His mind was damaged,” Hawker said. “He would do chores for the innkeeper, in exchange for bread and board, but there were days when he would shout and scream for no reason at all, or just sit down and refuse to move for hours. Truth spells might not have worked on him.”
“Or made his condition worse,” Emily mused. “Did you not send him to the Halfway House?”
“The locals were adamant he not be shown to any traveling sorcerer,” Hawker said. “Their relationship with the forest has always been more complex than anyone is prepared to admit.”
He shrugged. “No one was prepared to claim him as a relative,” he added. “It’s possible he might have been lying, for some reason, but there’s no way to know for sure.”
Emily put the matter at the back of her mind for future contemplation, then listened as Randor chatted to Hawker, slowly putting the bigger man at ease. She’d never considered Beast Hunting as a career, but she could see why it was considered necessary. Some of the beasts Hawker had hunted and killed were very dangerous, particularly the giant spiders and warped men. The latter combined human intelligence with a chilling sadism that terrified everyone who encountered them.
It’s a great deal easier to be against hunting, she thought dryly, when one isn’t at risk from the prey.
She scowled, inwardly. She’d had nightmares about the day Alassa and her suitors had taken her boar-hunting, three years ago; they’d hunted wild boars that had turned out to be transformed criminals and thought nothing of it. But even then, real wild boars were dangerous pests to the peasants. Protecting them from harm would only lead to ruined crops and destroyed lives.
Imaiqah nudged her as she looked at Galina. “How did you become a Chirurgeon, anyway?”
Galina smiled, showing a flicker of inner strength. “My father was one of the best Chirurgeons in the world,” she said. “It was a great disappointment to him that both of his sons insisted on becoming farmers, rather than Chirurgeons themselves. I was the only one of his children willing to learn, so he taught me instead. And when he died on campaign, I stepped into his role.”
Emily blinked. “And he taught you? Just like that?”
“There are no formal schools for Chirurgeons,” Galina said, dryly. “My father always used to say we should get organized, but there was a great deal of opposition from some of the others. The only thing that made me qualified was his training, and the only thing that kept me in the role was being good at it.”
Emily winced. She’d read too much about medical care in the past to feel anything but fear if she fell into the hands of an unmagical Healer. The Nameless World might know more about medicine than Earth had, at least before the nineteenth century, but without magic their options were limited. Broken limbs had to be reset by force, operations had to be carried out without anaesthetics and there was a very real risk of infection, even though local doctors knew about the existence of germs. One of the midwives she’d met, during her lessons, hadn’t even bothered to wash her hands before delivering a child.
Imaiqah nodded. “Where did you meet your husband?”
Galina colored, lightly. “I patched him up after he was nearly killed by a basilisk. We started walking out together shortly afterwards. And then I gave up my role and followed him as he hunted more and more dangerous monsters. We married a year later.”
She shook her head. “There’s only so many people you can watch die before you just give up,” she added. “I held too many young hands as they died, calling for their mothers, knowing there was nothing I could do to save them.”
No magic, Emily reminded herself. If Lady Barb had been seen as a potential Healer because her mother had taught her the basics a long time before she saw Whitehall, Galina would probably have rated the same level of attention if she’d had magic. All she could do was watch some of them die.
“I think you should be proud of your son,” Queen Marlena said. Emily hadn’t even realized she was listening. “He’s strong, decent and capable.”
“I am,” Galina said. She smiled at Jade, who looked embarrassed. “I’m very proud of him.”
Randor nodded in agreement, then looked at Hawker. “Have you thought about where you’ll live after the wedding?”
“We don’t have a fixed home,” Hawker said. “We prefer to keep moving.”
“I always need reliable agents,” Randor said, seriously. “And many of the people you’d meet would assume you spoke for me.”
“Only if you wanted someone to hunt monsters within your kingdom,” Hawker said. “I don’t have the patience to make nice with people.”
Randor smiled. “The real monsters walk on two legs,” he commented. “And sometimes they need to be beheaded.”
Emily glanced at him, sharply. What was he doing? And what was he actually saying?
Marlena rose. “I need to be up early tomorrow,” she said. Emily felt a flicker of disappointment at how neatly she’d cut off her husband’s words. “And so do many of you.”
“Of course, of course,” Randor said. Emily wondered, suddenly, if he’d signaled her to end the gathering. They’d been a team ever since they’d married. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”
Emily nodded, relieved, and followed Imaiqah out of the room.
Chapter Fifteen
“EMILY,” IMAIQAH CALLED, AS EMILY HURRIED into the practice hall. “There’s a dress for you with the tailors. Go get into it, would you?”
Emily sighed. She hadn’t slept well -- she had a feeling she’d need to go back to the spellchamber later in the day, as her head was already starting to pound -- and breakfast had been unsatisfactory. But Imaiqah was already turning to a stern-faced girl who looked inclined to put up an argument, so Emily shook her head and headed over to the tailors, who stood against the wall. A dozen girls waited ahead of her, glowering at the men as if they thought they could force the tailors to w
ork faster. Emily joined the end of the queue and waited. One of the tailors looked up and saw her, just as he finished outfitting one girl.
“Lady Emily,” he said. He rummaged through a selection of boxes until he found the one he was looking for. “Your dress is over here.”
He opened the box as Emily stepped over to him, revealing a long white dress a shade or two darker than Alassa’s. They’d incorporated some of her suggestions, she noted, as he held it up in front of her; it was no longer so tight around her curves and a handful of protective charms had been woven into the material. But when he reached for the dress she already wore, she shook her head firmly.
“I’ll change on my own,” she said, taking the white dress. “Point me to a private room.”
The tailor stared at her in complete incomprehension. “You can undress here,” he said, surprised. Emily heard a couple of snickers from behind her and fought down the urge to turn and throw a fireball at the aristocratic brats. “It’s quite warm...”
Emily gritted her teeth. “But I prefer to undress in private, or at least away from men,” she said, tartly. “And if there isn’t a seamstress to assist me, I’ll dress myself.”
She turned and marched into a corner, then shaped a privacy ward in her mind and cast the spell with as much power as she dared. The air blurred around her - she thought, just for a second, that she was underwater - and she realized she’d used too much power. No one could see in, but she couldn’t see out either. She dismissed the thought, removed her dress as best as she could and pulled the new one over her shoulders. The charms, thankfully, made it easier to wear than she’d expected. Some of the dresses Alassa had been trying on were simply impossible to put on - or take off - without help.
Probably meant to keep her from doing anything indecent in public, she thought, sourly. It was the only explanation that made sense. But if she found someone she wanted to kiss, he could help her get out of the dress.
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