Toby Bishop - Horse Mistress 03

by Airs of Night

  Both horsemistresses looked across the courtyard to the students clustered in the door of the stables.

  Several, Philippa saw with a heavy heart, wept openly. Hester and Larkyn and Anabel, their faces stony, stood watching their classmates flying away from them. When they were gone, those three—and Grace, whose independent spirit had come as something of a surprise—came across the cobblestones to incline their heads to Lord Francis. They looked as if the last shreds of their innocence had been torn away.

  Philippa would have given almost anything to put them back.

  It was Hester who spoke for them. That one would always gather followers to her—if she had the chance.

  “Lord Francis,” Hester said. “Larkyn Black, Anabel Chance, and Grace Spring join me, Hester Morning, in offering you our services.”

  Francis’s nod was grave, and not in the least condescending. He knew, Philippa thought, that it might indeed come to this, as the struggle with his brother intensified. “Thank you,” he said. “We all understand how difficult this decision was for you to make.”

  Hester made a gesture with her head toward the stables. “Isobel has taken a neutral position, my lord,”

  she said. “So you can see that we are divided right down the middle.”

  Philippa blew out a breath. “Come, Hester,” she said, “and the rest of you. Let’s get everyone into the hall, out of the cold, and hear what Lord Francis would like us to do.”

  Before they trooped indoors, Brye Hamley came to bow to Philippa and take his leave. “I’m going in search of Nick. I’ll send him to Beeth House, if I can find him,” he said with grim purpose. “Lord Francis will be expecting him.”

  “Has Jolinda provided you with a horse?” Philippa asked.

  “She has, thanks,” he said. With a touch of his fingers to the drooping brim of his hat, he was gone. She lingered on the steps to watch his tall figure cross the courtyard to the stables. If there must be conflict, she was grateful to stand on the same side as such a man.

  She turned then and went with a heavy step into the foyer of the Hall. The threatened snow began to fall before she closed the doors, and she hoped her colleagues and her students were safely to ground before it grew too heavy.

  She watched the horsemistresses and their students take their seats in silence. Lord Francis stepped up beside the high table. His coat and trousers were black, but the silver insignia of Oc was conspicuously missing from his belt and his collar. Philippa had the strange thought that they might have to change the signature color of the Duke’s service, then pushed that away. It was hard enough to believe they were actually going to oppose William openly, without trying to guess what the future might hold.

  First, she hoped to find a way to prevent winged horses from being sent into battle.

  And she hoped she could find out what had happened to Amelia Rys.

  TWENTY-SIX

  WILLIAMwore a long, heavy wool cloak with a high mink collar. Its hem was damp by the time he crossed the plaza to the Rotunda steps. Constance trailed behind him, wrapped in ermine, with a hood pulled over her hair. The sky lowered above the dome. The colorful pennants, one for each of the thirty-eight noble families, drooped under flurries of snow. William paused at the top of the steps, looking out past the live oak to where the horsemistresses and the Academy students waited with their mounts.

  The paltry number of them—surely no more than ten or twelve—appalled him.

  He snarled at his secretary, who was walking behind him, “I want the name of every horsemistress and student flyer there.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And then I want a list of all horsemistresses who did not obey my order.” William turned toward the Rotunda, but he said over his shoulder, “I want the students’ names, too. The third-levels who didn’t come.”

  He heard shock in the man’s hushed tone as he repeated, “Yes, Your Grace,” but he ignored it. He strode on through the great double doors, his cloak swirling over the marble floor. They would all pay, every woman and girl who had ignored his command. He would be a horsemaster before a week was out. No, before another day had passed. If the weather would only clear, he would fly Diamond tomorrow.

  As he passed into the warmth of the Rotunda, he heard what sounded like a gunshot from the region of the docks. He glanced to his left and saw that the Council guards were all looking in that direction.

  Well, let them look. A few skirmishes were nothing. Great accomplishments required sacrifices. Once he had proved himself, peace would settle over the Duchy again. And it would be peace on his terms.

  He stalked down the tiered steps to the carved chair awaiting him in the center. Constance scurried behind him. The Council Lords were already gathered, and someone, it seemed, had been speaking. All fell silent as he entered, and rose to their feet. Even the ladies and their maids in the gallery ceased their whispers and rustles.

  He gave them a negligent wave and settled into his chair, letting his smallsword fall to one side. Slowly, with some scraping of chairs, murmuring to aides and secretaries, the Lords of Oc’s Council sat down again. Constance’s maid helped her to wriggle out of her fur cloak and readjusted the rope of pearls that wound around her neck and hung nearly to her waist. William gave her a disdainful look. He hated those pearls. He had been persuaded to give them to her as a wedding present, and he couldn’t think why he had ever wasted his money on such ostentation.

  Her gaze flickered up to his, then away to the ladies in the gallery. She wore no expression on her face at all, but it seemed to William she was less shy than she had been previously. She was less . . . Was it fearful? He didn’t know what had given her this little burst of courage.

  Well, it wasn’t important. Constance mattered far less than Diamond.

  He leaned back in his chair, propping his chin on his fist, and gave his Council a defiant look. “My lords of Oc,” he said. “It’s good to be with you again.”

  For an uncomfortable moment, no one answered, then Meredith Islington stood up. “We know you’ve been busy, Your Grace. We welcome you back to the Council.”

  William eyed the other men. One or two nodded agreement with Islington. Others scowled, leaning back in their chairs as if to absent themselves from the exchange. Most sat squarely, noncommittally. William smiled.

  “We could hardly be unaware,” he said, “that there is dissension in the Duchy. We have come today to reassure you that our ultimate goal is nearly in hand.”

  Old Lord Daysmith struggled to his feet, aided by a secretary who jumped up from the stool beside him.

  Daysmith glowered down the tiers at William, and William stared back, lifting one questioning brow.

  “Duke William,” Daysmith said in his quavering voice. “Your patrol boats are firing on a Klee ship in our harbor. Our citizens are imagining a war with the Klee. Gangs of brigands roam the streets because there is no guard to control them. The Council Lords would like to know just what your goal is and why you’ve allowed the peace of the Duchy to be so disturbed.”

  The old fool, William thought bitterly. He thought he had nothing to lose, that his age and infirmity protected him.

  But he kept the smile on his face and spoke lightly. “The arrival of the Klee ship proves the need for an expanded militia, does it not?”

  Another lord leaped to his feet. This one was Billings, who needed no assistance. He was younger even than Francis, newly come into his title. “Your Grace,” he said loudly. “I demand you release the Klee Viscount’s niece!”

  “ You demand?” William said in an icy tone. “You forget yourself, my lord.”

  Billings gave a negligent shrug that set William’s teeth on edge. “It is you, Your Grace, who forgets.

  You’ve forgotten your duty to your people.” He sat down amid a few murmurs of agreement and one or two exclamations of protest at his brashness.

  William’s smile had faded, but he kept his face impassive. “You may know, my lords,” he said, “
that the horsemistress Philippa Winter—with neither my knowledge nor my permission—bartered a position at the Academy of the Air for the use of a Klee ship to go into Aeskland.”

  “As our own militia should have done,” someone called.

  William whipped his head around to see who had spoken, but he was too late. He had left his secretary outside, and he supposed it would be no good asking Constance. She lounged in her chair, playing with the cursed pearls, and gazing idly up into the balcony.

  Islington countered, “The risk was too great. Indeed, the Duke’s own brother was injured, almost fatally.”

  Someone else put in, “Two of our own citizens—children—were kidnapped!”

  And another said, “They were only peasants,” causing an uproar of argument.

  William dropped his chin and regarded the lords from beneath his brows. He waited for the hubbub to subside. When the Rotunda was quiet again, he nodded. “Lord Islington is right,” he said. “Our brother almost died in that foolhardy adventure. We’re glad to say, however, that he’s now fully restored to health. And we think it behooves us all to talk about the future and not the past.”

  “Your Grace.” Another man stood. It was Chatham this time. He was a grave man, who spoke seldom, and who commanded every ear when he did decide to raise his voice.

  William eyed him.

  “Your Grace,” Chatham said, evidently unperturbed, “there are those of us who object to your inciting this war with the Klee.”

  William let his lip curl. “My lord Chatham,” he purred, “you are in error. We have not incited a war.”

  “And the girl?” Billings called, without bothering to rise. “That’s incitement enough!”

  William felt heat in his throat and his cheeks, and his heart pounded dangerously. It was the potion, he thought. He had never before had such difficulty keeping his nerve. Beside him, Constance turned in her chair, eyeing him with that oddly avid expression. Damn her, too. He would have a word with her later about loyalty, and appearances.

  He forced his voice to an even pitch. “We understand, my lords, that feeling is high here in our Council at the moment, so we will forgive some slight discourtesy. But we wish to make it very clear that we oppose any bonding of a winged horse to a foreigner.”

  “A little late for that, is it not?” Daysmith called.

  William glared at him. “Philippa Winter acted illegally in agreeing to this bonding. The winged horses of Oc are not for sale.”

  Lord Beeth stood up. No doubt, William thought sourly, his lady was sending him signals from the gallery, although Beeth showed no sign of it. He folded his arms. “Your Grace, I believe Horsemistress Winter received your permission. After you received a letter from Lord Francis.”

  William’s heart fluttered again, and his eyes began to sting. The thought that he might actually lose control in front of the Council filled him with rage. “They manipulated the law!” he shouted. “And upon reflection—” His voice shook, and he gripped the arm of his chair to steady himself. More calmly, he said, “Upon reflection, we have decided their action should not stand.”

  Lord Beeth’s mouth twisted, and he sat down. Billings half rose, but Daysmith interrupted. “Duke

  William! Let’s stop this nonsense before men begin dying!”

  “My lord Daysmith,” William said. “When we send our winged horses against the Klee ship, to support the patrol boats, they will leave the harbor, we have no doubt. Then we can—negotiate with them for the return of the girl.” He tugged at his vest. “But not the horse,” he added lightly. “The colt belongs to Oc.”

  “But what about this Fleckham School?” Daysmith demanded. “And what about the Academy of the Air?”

  William raised one hand. “We beg your patience, my lords. Had it not been for this unseasonable snow, we should have had great news for you this very day. But soon, I promise you. Perhaps even tomorrow.”

  “Duke William.” It was Chatham again. Every head in the Council turned to face him. Even Constance twisted in her place to look.

  “Do you have something to add, my lord?” William asked.

  “I do, Your Grace.” Chatham looked around at the other men, and nodded as if he had counted them and found them sufficient. “We have no desire to keep secrets from you, Duke William,” he said. “But we have formed a small force to prevent you from attacking the Klee.”

  “What!” William exclaimed. He smacked the broad, carved arm of his chair with the flat of his hand.

  “How dare you! Which among you dared to—”

  Chatham put up a hand, just as if he himself were the Duke. William’s heart beat so loudly he could hardly hear as Chatham said, “For the good of our people, Your Grace, we intend to prevent this war.”

  “You forget,” William cried, a little shrilly, “that they are my people, too! They will obey their Duke!”

  “Or his brother.”

  This was Billings, lounging in his seat, one leg crossed over the other. A shocked silence fell at his pronouncement.

  William stared at him, feeling as if the floor had suddenly spun beneath his feet. He only just stopped himself from repeating, “Brother?”

  He should have seen it. Francis was not present, but he rarely attended Council meetings, having no real role. Francis. A traitor after all. No doubt Francis meant to steal his throne.

  “No one will follow a usurper,” Meredith Islington called.

  William stood and lifted Constance to her feet. He propelled her ahead of him up the tiers toward the doors. At the top, he stopped, and faced the Council.

  “We warn you,” he said, very softly. “Those of you who dare to betray us. When we have flown—when your Duke is a true horsemaster—no one will dare defy us. You will regret your faithlessness. A new day is about to dawn in Oc.”

  With that, he turned in a swirl of wool and mink, and left the chamber.

  NOTuntil they were in the carriage, with Constance tucked under a goat’s-hair lap robe, did she speak.

  She looked up at him, with that odd, avaricious look in her eye. “I was under the impression the girl had escaped,” she said softly.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Constance,” William snapped, and turned away from her to look out the carriage window. The snow had stopped, and the streets gleamed wet and gray. “The Council doesn’t need to know everything.”

  “No?” Constance smoothed the silken nap of the lap robe and pulled her ermine collar closer around her slender neck. “Naturally I thought they might. Since Slater tried to drag the child down to the port to show her to the Klee.”

  William had to fight the urge to grip that long rope of pearls and twist it until Constance’s little white face turned blue. For a moment he dared not speak. When he thought he could control his voice, he said,

  “My lady wife, I would advise you not to listen to gossip. If I think you need to know something”—he glanced at her over his shoulder, without turning from the window—“I will tell you.”

  She dropped her eyelids in her usual demure fashion, but not before he had seen the spark in them, the faint light of some other reaction he could not quite name. “Yes, my lord,” she said.

  “Constance—”

  She pulled the ermine closer around her, hiding the pearls. “Yes, William.”

  “The situation in Oc is complicated at the moment. I require absolute loyalty.”

  Now her own eyes drifted out to the wet scenes of the city rolling by. “Of course, William,” she said, a little vaguely. “Of course.”

  He tried to concentrate on what was to come, on what he needed to do to be ready to fly tomorrow. But once they had arrived at the Ducal Palace, and he had left the carriage to go into the stables, he still wondered. If even his Duchess hesitated . . . doubted him . . .

  It didn’t matter, he told himself as he gathered a scoop of oats and a brush from the tack room. He needed only one more day.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  AMELIAhuddled with Mahogany
in a shadowy, fish-scented warehouse that seemed to have been abandoned. After escaping the three who had detained her in the street, she had led her colt as quickly as she dared through the cramped lanes down toward the docks. She soon understood that the ruffians she had already met were not the only ones abroad in the night.

  It was Mahogany who had found their present hiding place. They dashed into an alley when they heard shouts nearby, and then shots. A bullet cracked a lamppost terrifyingly near Amelia’s head. The two of them shrank back against a rough brick wall and waited for the sounds to die away, then, breathlessly, they crept on their way again, staying in the shadows, trying to find their way through the maze of lanes and alleys toward the North Tower. Its light, flashing on and off out over the harbor, seemed to Amelia to be alternately coaxing her and mocking her.

  She knew the pattern she wanted from that light. She thought she could persuade the keeper to do it, to send the message to her father, but first, she had to find a way to arrive at the Tower in one piece.

  As she and Mahogany moved slowly toward the bay, the morning light turned from gray to a frosty silver, and snowflakes began to fall in random flurries. The lampkeepers came along the streets and snuffed out the gas lamps. Amelia hid even from them. She felt she could no longer trust anyone. Everyone in the world seemed to have taken sides in this strange conflict, and it seemed to her that all she could do was eliminate at least one element of the struggle. She had to let the Marinan know that she was here, that she was alive, that she was free.

  As they passed the warehouse, Mahogany slowed and pulled back against the lead.

  “What is it?” Amelia whispered to him. He had never before resisted the lead. She looked back at him, and he tossed his head and backed a couple of steps. She glanced ahead, anxious that he had seen or heard something she had missed.

  There was movement on the docks now, militiamen, she thought, walking back and forth on patrol. The fishing boats bobbed uselessly at their moorage. There could be no fishing, not with the mouth of the harbor blocked and the patrol boats firing at odd intervals on the Marinan . No imports, no exports, no fish . . . the Duke had done a thorough job of paralyzing Osham.