Rudolf looked relieved. “I knew he must have been under someone’s influence,” he said, once Emily had finished explaining. “But I thought it was Lady Easter.”
Emily quirked an eyebrow, so he hastened to explain.
“She needs to marry off her daughters as soon as possible,” Rudolf told her. “To someone who could protect them when the old lady finally died. I would be one of the few acceptable sons-in-law for her.”
“Oh,” Emily said. She knew how snobbish aristocrats could be when it came to marriage, but there were strong reasons why Rudolf wouldn’t make a good match for Lady Easter’s daughter, starting with the simple fact that he would take power from his wife’s mother. “Why you?”
“Lady Easter cannot rule forever,” Rudolf pointed out. “Sooner or later, she is going to need a successor.”
Emily had to admit he had a point. Aristocrats might cling greedily to their power, but they knew that they had to make provision for the succession. King Randor had had good reason to worry about handing power to Alassa – or at least the royal brat she’d been prior to Whitehall – yet he was now training her in proper governance, intending to share his power as soon as Alassa left school. Barring accidents or war, Alassa would outlive her father and then have a son of her own to take her place. Still, there were always problems when one generation took over from the next.
“You’d think they’d accept a woman could rule,” Emily said, curious to see how Rudolf would react. “Lady Easter seems to do it well enough.”
“She’s also old,” Rudolf pointed out. “She isn’t distracted by female issues.”
Emily rolled her eyes. That was a common excuse for denying women power and place, although men could be just as emotional as women with far less cause. But then, people often came up with the prejudice first and then invented reasons to justify it later. And it wasn’t as if Lady Easter couldn’t or wouldn’t have children. She had three daughters.
“Tell me something,” she said. “Why don’t you want to marry her daughter?”
“She’s ugly,” Rudolf said, at once. “I couldn’t abide the thought of touching her.”
Emily felt a hot flash of anger. How dare someone just dismiss his prospective bride like that? She’d been mocked enough to know just how badly it would sting the girl, if she ever heard Rudolf say it. And besides, Rudolf could spend time with a mistress, if he liked, once he’d impregnated his wife. He had a freedom his wife would probably lack.
But then she took a closer look, controlling her anger. Rudolf didn’t seem to quite believe his own words. Like Alassa, he had been raised to know that his marriage would be arranged for matters of state – and to accept it, as the price for being the aristocrat he was. He shouldn’t have any problem marrying the girl, even if she was a one-legged hunchback who kept her face hidden under a bag. And...
And he should have just accepted it, Emily thought, puzzled. The runes would have seen to that, wouldn’t they?
Rudolf hadn’t known the runes were there or he would have alerted his father – and no amount of subtle magic could hide something, once people were actually looking. In that case, the runes should have affected him. Even powerful magicians could be affected, without ever knowing that they were being influenced. So why had Rudolf turned so sharply against the idea of marrying the poor girl?
“I have never observed men having problems with touching girls,” Emily observed, tartly. “What other reasons did you have?”
Rudolf eyed her, sharply. “Why do you care?”
“Because your planned marriage was organized by a magician who might well be a necromancer,” Emily said, bluntly. “And you’re changing the subject. What reasons do you have to resist the marriage?”
“A necromancer?” Rudolf repeated. “But why...?”
“A very good question,” Emily agreed. Shadye hadn’t given a damn about the politics of the Allied Lands, as far as she could tell. “And you’re still changing the subject.”
“I should have known not to argue with a woman,” Rudolf said, giving her a sly grin. “They always notice the unanswered questions.”
“It’s a gift,” Emily said. She was tempted to point out that being snide in front of a magician wasn’t a good idea, but kept it to herself. “And you have yet to answer my question.”
Rudolf sat upright. “I am the heir to Gorham,” he snapped. “I do not have to answer you.”
Emily gave him a long look as the pieces fell into place. A young man who hadn’t tried to lure any of the serving girls into his bed, let alone molest them. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have found a willing girl, either. A young man who had been so vigorously against marriage that he’d fled his father’s castle, rather than try to reason his way out of it. And a young man who had been so intensely defensive that he’d been prepared to snap at a magician, even knowing that it could get him turned into a toad.
And he hadn’t shown any real awareness of her femininity either.
“You’re not interested in women,” she said. “Are you?”
Rudolf turned bright red and looked down at the table, answering her question without saying a word. Emily felt a wave of pity for him, understanding just how he must feel. The Cairngorms were not kind to homosexuals, even when the homosexual didn’t have a duty to provide his tiny kingdom with an heir. Given Rudolf’s position, the secret could have undone his father’s lands. Hell, given how homosexuality was often equated with weakness in the mountains, he’d be challenged by almost everyone as soon as he took his father’s place.
“I understand that there are oaths healers take,” Rudolf said, when he could speak again. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the table. “You cannot talk about this to anyone, can you?”
Emily hesitated. It was true that healers swore such oaths – but she’d never taken the oaths herself. Lady Barb had just told her never to discuss anyone’s condition with anyone else unless there was no alternative. Parents had a right to know what was wrong with their young children, she knew, but no one else had any right to know. A careless word on her part, she’d been warned, could cause years of gossip for the villagers.
“I won’t talk about it with anyone, apart from my mistress,” Emily said. Lady Barb had sworn such oaths. “Is that acceptable?”
“Yes,” he said.
She hated asking blunt questions, but it needed to be asked. “When did you realize you didn’t like girls?”
“I didn’t notice any difference between me and other boys, at first,” Rudolf said. He still didn’t look up at her. “But father...father used to say that a young man should be experienced with women. He picked the prettiest chambermaids for me, even dressed them in revealing clothes. But I felt nothing for them, even when” – his face grew even redder – “he explained the mechanics to me.”
Emily felt her own face heat. No one had ever explained the mechanics to her – she’d had to learn the facts of life from books and the Internet– but she could appreciate just how agonizingly embarrassing the talk must have been for Rudolf. Men didn’t mature at a specific age any more than women. There would have been times when Rudolf was still trapped in the mindset of a child...and afterwards, when he did mature, he would still have been horrified at talking over such matters with his father.
She couldn’t help wondering just how far Lord Gorham had gone to ensure his son had experience. Had he paid the maids extra to put out for him?
“I still felt nothing,” Rudolf said. “But I started to notice men instead. My father’s huntsman, some of the soldiers...I couldn’t help thinking and dreaming about them. And then...”
“You did it with someone,” Emily guessed.
She’d known one boy at school who’d come out of the closet – and that had been in a fairly liberal society. He’d still been teased and tormented mercilessly by his peers. In hindsight, it was easy enough to see that most of them had been worried that it was catching, but it hadn’t been easy for him.
But it would be far worse in a
society where everyone expected him to get to work and produce an heir. Whoever had...done it with him would be in a position to blackmail Rudolf for the rest of his life. Or, for that matter, someone who caught them together.
“I did,” Rudolf said. He smiled, suddenly. “It took a while to learn how, but we did. And...”
Emily hastily held up her hand. She’d overheard enough boys bragging about their sexual conquests – real and imaginary – to know that she didn’t want to hear the gory details. If there was one thing the magicians of Whitehall had in common with their counterparts from Earth, it was bragging endlessly about sex. And magicians enjoyed a far greater sexual freedom than anyone else.
“So you were so fixated on men that the runes couldn’t get a grip on your mind,” Emily said. She wondered, absently, what would have happened if Lady Easter had a son. Would Rudolf have wanted to marry him? “And you fled, rather than tell your father the truth.”
Rudolf looked up at her. “Wouldn’t you?”
Emily winced, inwardly. That hit far too close to home.
“He’d want to take me to a healer,” Rudolf said. “Someone who could make me...normal.”
He met her eyes. “Is that even possible?”
“I don’t know,” Emily hedged. Subtle magic obviously hadn’t worked. More direct compulsion spells and charms might work, but they came with a cost. “It would be much simpler for you to marry someone, then transfer sperm without sex. You could then let her have freedom to do whatever she wants.”
Rudolf’s face reddened again. “You do realize that my wife couldn’t take a lover?”
Emily met his eyes. “Why not? Isn’t that what you want for yourself?”
Rudolf started to splutter. “It would suggest that I couldn’t control my wife,” he mumbled, embarrassed. “And if I couldn’t control her, it would suggest I couldn’t control my kingdom.”
“Oh,” Emily said, sardonically. “It’s all about control.”
It was, she knew. The obsession with legitimate heirs was bad enough, but few people in the mountains would be able to comprehend someone letting his wife look for love and romance elsewhere. He was right; they would take it as a sign of weakness. And the villagers weren’t much different – or were they? She’d seen battered wives and wives who were quite prepared to keep their husbands in line through force.
“Yes,” Rudolf confirmed. “It is.” He paused. “My parents grew to love one another,” he added. “Is it wrong to want such a relationship for myself?”
Emily winced in sympathy.
Rudolf looked back down at the table. “Can you make me normal?”
Emily gave him a sharp look. She had no idea if homosexuals were produced by nature or nurture, but given how far Lord Gorham had gone she suspected the former. In that case, Rudolf’s nature would be clashing with a culture that told him that homosexuality was disgusting, as well as a despised sign of weakness. If homosexuals on Earth could get twisted between two contradictory points, why not homosexuals from a far more restrained culture?
“I think it would break your mind to try,” she said, gently. Maybe he could be charmed into preferring women, but the charm would be pushing against his nature. “Do you feel nothing for women at all?”
“Nothing,” Rudolf confirmed.
On Earth, there were people who would advise a homosexual – and provide assistance, if necessary. They would even help talk to parents who were less than accepting of their son’s homosexuality. But there was no one here...and Lord Gorham had more important problems than homophobia. If his son was unable to produce a grandchild, he would have to cast around for some other solution, just to keep the succession intact.
“Then my honest advice, again, would be to marry someone who won’t mind bearing a child and then being ignored,” Emily said. Ideally, he should marry a lesbian. Oddly – or perhaps it wasn’t so odd – the guidebooks had mentioned nothing about lesbians. “And you would have to be honest with her from the start.”
Rudolf blinked. “Honest?”
“Women are told that men are sex-mad fiends,” Emily said, remembering drunken remarks by her mother. “If you don’t act like you’re interested, she’ll know you’re not interested and start wondering why. And then she would be in a position to embarrass you.”
Or, she thought silently, would you lock her up to keep her from talking?
Could a wife be kept as a prisoner? The culture of the mountains insisted that a bride moved from her father’s house to her husband’s, who assumed complete responsibility for her. There were few aristocratic fathers who would challenge a lord over the treatment of his daughter. Why not? Daughters existed to forge ties of blood, not wield power...
“You could marry me,” Rudolf said. “As a magician, you would be a social equal.”
Emily gaped at him, then shook her head. “Millie” could marry him – a common-born apprentice could hardly hope to do better, if she wanted to marry into the local aristocracy – but Baroness Emily had more lands and money than Lord Gorham. At the very least, it would cause all sorts of problems; King Randor would probably have to approve the match, which he wouldn’t unless he benefited in some way. And it was hard to see how he could.
“I think you want someone who already knows,” she said. “But it wouldn’t be a very satisfying relationship for me.”
It had its advantages, she had to admit...but she shoved the thought back into the back of her mind. Maybe, if she’d been so totally repulsed by men, she would have considered it. But she had been friends with Jade...
“I did,” Rudolf said, shamefaced. “Do you know any magician who would be interested?”
Emily remembered Hodge’s claim that magicians – female magicians – had no restraints on their activities. She wondered, briefly, if she did know any lesbians. Statistically, there was a good chance that there were more than a handful at Whitehall. But she didn’t know who they were...and even if she did, would they be interested in spending the rest of their lives in a cold castle in the middle of nowhere?
“I don’t think so,” she said. “What are you going to do now?”
“I think I need to speak with your mistress, then go home,” Rudolf said. “Can I stay here?”
Emily nodded, relieved. It was easier for him to stay willingly than doing something to keep him prisoner. Besides, they could chat about something else.
“Tell me,” she said. “Why did you come here?”
“I had the idea that I could talk Lady Easter out of accepting me as a husband for her daughter,” Rudolf said. “But then I realized just how hard it would be to get into the castle and decided to wait for an opportunity.”
“Your father knows better now,” Emily reassured him. “But you really should talk to him more openly, before he arranges a match with someone less...provocative.”
Rudolf nodded and changed the subject. He was smarter and more knowledgeable than the princes who’d tried to court Alassa, Emily decided, although there were some curious gaps in his knowledge. Rudolf could recite family relationships for every aristocrat within the mountains, but knew almost nothing about the other aristocracies in the Allied Lands, even though they were prospective marriage partners. But somehow Emily doubted that a king’s younger son – assuming he had one – would be interested in marrying into the mountain families.
“Father always said that reading too much was bad,” Rudolf said, at one point. “Is that actually true?”
“Depends what you read,” Emily grunted. Her stepfather had said the same thing, which had only spurred her determination to read every book she could find. “You have to keep an open mind – but not too open. Or bad ideas might come crawling in.”
Rudolf laughed. “But how do you tell a bad idea?”
Emily shrugged. Anything could be made to sound convincing with a little effort, particularly if the reader didn’t know enough to notice the omissions. Politicians on Earth had specialized in making two plus two equal five, with
a little careful dancing.
She found herself enjoying the discussion more than she’d expected, but a nagging worry slowly grew stronger in her breast. Where was Lady Barb? Emily stood and made dinner for both of them, silently thanking God that Lady Barb had brought enough food for several days, then left some of it on the stove. When Lady Barb returned, she’d want food...
But, by nightfall, Lady Barb had not returned.
Chapter Thirty-Three
EMILY HALF-EXPECTED TO SEE LADY BARB when she opened her eyes the following morning, as soon as a rooster outside began to welcome the sun. But the blankets by the side of the bed were untouched, as were the wards she’d erected to protect the bedroom. Pulling herself to her feet, she stumbled through the wards and peered towards the fire. Perhaps Lady Barb was there...
But the only person in the room was Rudolf, snoring so loudly that Emily was surprised he hadn’t kept her awake.
She checked the outside wards and discovered that no one had passed through them since Rudolf, yesterday afternoon. Lady Barb hadn’t returned, then; she might have left Emily’s wards alone, but not chosen to stay outside the house all night. Emily put the cauldron over the kitchen fire and started to boil water, thinking hard. Lady Barb hadn’t returned and that meant...what?
There’s a necromancer – a suspected necromancer – out there, Emily thought.
Yes, Lady Barb was good at hiding, but if she got caught she would have to fight a necromancer at knife-range, making it almost impossible to escape. What if she’d been killed – or captured? An adult combat sorceress would be a tempting source of magic for any necromancer, while no one else would take the risk of keeping Lady Barb alive.
I should have taken the full master-apprentice link, she thought, bitterly. She would have been able to find Lady Barb with ease – or know she was dead – if she’d taken the bond. But she hadn’t been planning to stay an apprentice for longer than two months, instead of the full two-year period. And dissolving the bond ahead of time tended to cause unforeseen repercussions.
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