The Tethered Mage

by Melissa Caruso

  Ciardha took the bottle and my books from me and set them on a table, then held out my coat. “Perhaps La Contessa doesn’t need you there, Lady. But others might.”

  I paused halfway into the first sleeve. “What do you mean?”

  “This is a military-strategy discussion, Lady, regarding how to deploy the Falcons against potential threats to the Empire. I believe Lieutenant Verdi will be there.”

  Cold settled in my belly. If my mother wanted me there, they might be talking about deploying my Falcon. “What potential threats?”

  Ciardha’s eyes gleamed in the lamplight. “It isn’t my place to say, Lady. But I think you know.”

  The Map Room in the Imperial Palace was aptly named: painted murals of the Serene City and the Empire covered the walls, and even the floor was an inlaid map done in varying shades of marble and precious metals. But the map unrolled on the great table in the center of the room was one of all Eruvia, with colored stones scattered on it for markers. Gathered around the table, casting their shadows across the world from the lamps hanging above, were the doge, the full Council of Nine, a handful of generals and other high military officers, Colonel Vasante of the Falcons, and a very nervous-looking Marcello.

  I slipped in beside him, half a step back from his iron-haired colonel, who leaned on the table with both hands. Marcello shot me the look of a drowning swimmer who sees a friend reaching out with an oar to grab.

  No one else paid me any attention. Even my mother didn’t lift her narrowed eyes from the map.

  “We have the troops to quietly reinforce all the forts in the mountain passes along the Vaskandran border,” the doge was saying. “And we can pull ships from Osta to better position our navy in the north, to attack the Vaskandran coast on both flanks should they be so foolish as to try anything. But we don’t have enough available Falcons to cover the entire border plus Ardence. We need to make some choices.”

  Startled, I looked more closely at the map. The Empire’s northern reach ended in the Witchwall Mountains, a long range that marked the Vaskandran border. Beyond it lay the wild, dark tangles of the Vaskandran forests and the fog-shrouded folds of its hills and moors, a vast country under the Witch Lords’ complete dominion. Stones marked the fortresses in the passes, forest green for Vaskandran castles and ocean blue for Raverran forts. But a cluster of green stones gathered at one of the passes, a clump as telling as a swarm of ants on a dead beetle.

  “Is Vaskandar invading again?” I whispered to Marcello, alarmed.

  He shook his head. “No, thank the Graces. But they’ve moved troops to the border.”

  “They’d be mad to attack us, after we defeated them so soundly in the Three Years’ War.” The Witch Lords held near-absolute power in their own domains, but outside their realms they lacked the military might to mount a serious offensive into an Empire protected by the Falcons, and they had no navy to speak of.

  “Well,” Marcello murmured, “they do have a certain reputation.”

  “I don’t think we can ignore Ardence.” My mother tapped the city with an elegant nail. “Though by all reports Lady Terringer is making good progress bringing the duke around. The unrest there still makes it a weak spot for the Empire, and the River Arden has its source in the Witchwall Mountains, not far from where the Vaskandran forces are gathering. It’s a road for invasion they’ve used before, in the Three Years’ War. And we know Prince Ruven has been meddling with Ardentine politics. Whatever gambit Vaskandar is trying, Ardence is part of their strategy.”

  Baron Leodra sniffed. “Don’t try to shield Ardence from the consequences of its actions by shifting blame to Vaskandar. If their unrest weakens us, let us respond with strength. If we occupy Ardence, we can oust the would-be rebels there and be well positioned to defend if Vaskandar invades.”

  La Contessa shook her head. “You’re showing your inexperience, Leodra.”

  He twisted a flinch into a scowl. This was Baron Leodra’s first elected term on the Council of Nine, a fact my mother rarely let him forget. “How so? It’s common sense to keep a strong hold on such a key position.”

  “They’re trying to draw us out.” My mother cast a jaded glance at the map. “That force on the border is so obvious, it has to be a distraction or a provocation. It’s Loreice they’ve been after the last two times they went to war, not Ardence; we can’t assume this isn’t a trap. They haven’t made a true move yet. We need to keep our cards hidden, but be ready to act swiftly when the moment comes.”

  Colonel Vasante straightened. The lamplight caught harsh lines beside her mouth. “I agree. Which is why I think it’s too early to move more than a handful of Falcons into position in the field.”

  “We’re discussing an entire city-state that has broken the Serene Accords.” Baron Leodra’s voice sharpened. “Every vassal city in the Empire is watching what we do. If we don’t decisively answer such an open challenge, others will try to see what they can get away with. If Ardence doesn’t bend the knee swiftly, we need to be ready to respond with overwhelming force.”

  “I am aware of the gravity of the situation.” Vasante’s jaw flexed as if she ground Leodra’s objections between her teeth. “My statement stands. A few Falcons will suffice.”

  “What can a mere handful of Falcons do?” Baron Leodra scoffed.

  “If it’s the right Falcons?” The colonel’s finger fell on an island off the coast of Osta, marked on the map with scorched stone ruins. Celantis. “Just about anything.”

  Everyone turned and stared at me.

  I wanted, very badly, to duck behind Marcello. But I froze instead, hoping I looked impassive rather than nervous.

  “Well?” The doge’s sharp eyes moved between me and Marcello. “Can I count on our fire warlock, if we face a threat to the serenity of the Empire?”

  No. If I released Zaira now, I’d count her far more likely to burn a path of ashes across Raverra in a grand resignation from the Falcons than to follow the doge’s orders. But if I said that, it would humiliate Marcello in front of the entire Council of Nine, and jeopardize my own precarious position as an independent Falconer as well. There was no safe answer to his question.

  I couldn’t help myself. I looked to my mother.

  She wore her Council face, cool and regal. It was a closed door. She couldn’t help me here, not with everyone watching.

  Marcello cleared his throat. “Your Serenity.” He bowed, then clasped his hands behind his back. Only I could see his fingers trembling. “Zaira has just begun to settle into the Mews. It’s a delicate time of transition. I don’t recommend deploying any Falcon until they’ve adjusted and completed training.”

  The doge’s brows lifted. “Colonel? This is not what you told me.”

  Colonel Vasante’s back faced me, stiff as a bayonet. “Warlocks don’t need much training, Your Serenity. They use their power instinctively. Lieutenant Verdi is correct that it’s our normal peacetime procedure to allow Falcons time to settle in, but if war breaks out, her balefire is yours to command.”

  “Do you agree, Lieutenant Verdi?” The doge’s tone was mild, but his gaze could have cut stone.

  Marcello’s knuckles whitened behind his back. Seconds stretched endlessly by. The colonel rocked back on her heels, adjusting her stance to bring her weight down on Marcello’s toe.

  Marcello jumped, then bowed. “Of course, Your Serenity.”

  I clamped my lips shut on a noise of surprise or protest. The idea of Zaira following anyone’s commands right now was ludicrous.

  “And you, Lady Amalia?” The doge’s attention turned to me, and I tried not to flinch. “Are you prepared to take the field and unleash your Falcon if necessary?”

  I could feel my mother’s eyes boring into me. Here in front of the Council, one wrong word, whether of submission or of rebellion, could reroute the rest of my life.

  “Your Serenity,” I said carefully, “forgive me, but I’m not clear on where you are suggesting we deploy my fire warlock.”
>
  Someone let out a breath of surprise or relief. I couldn’t tell who.

  The marquise of Palova frowned. “Yes, it’s a bit early to be throwing a fire warlock into the fray, isn’t it? We’re not at war.” She waved at the cluster of green stones. “This troop movement could be a show of force by one Witch Lord to impress another, or an attempt to intimidate the Empire—a baring of the teeth. Vaskandar does things like this every few years, and it usually comes to nothing.”

  My mother leaned in, her fists on the table. “I suggest we hold the Falcons in reserve for now. Give our new Serene Envoy a chance to bring Ardence into line, and wait for better intelligence on Vaskandar’s true intentions. They are our strongest weapon, and best kept up our sleeve.”

  A rumble of assent rose up from the generals and half the Council. The doge nodded. “Very well. We’ll wait before deploying any Falcons. But I want them ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

  Colonel Vasante saluted. “Of course, Your Serenity.”

  The tension fell from Marcello’s shoulders, and he swayed as if it had been the only thing holding him up. Without thinking, I grabbed his elbow, steadying him.

  His startled eyes flicked to mine, and I released him at once, flushing. But he smiled.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t talking about my overly familiar hand. I smiled back, but only faintly. I’d bought us time, perhaps. Nothing more.

  If the duke of Ardence didn’t prove himself amenable to reason soon, Zaira’s balefire might become the doge’s next tool of persuasion.

  Chapter Eight

  You can’t hide in those books forever, Amalia.”

  My pen jumped, leaving a trail of ink across my carefully drawn diagram. I turned to face my mother, struggling to hold in a bitter outburst.

  “Hello, Mamma. I didn’t realize you were in my room.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Then you need to work on your awareness, girl. Even with the wards and Ciardha protecting it, our palace is not assassin-proof.”

  “I’m not hiding.” It was mostly true, though I was eager for some time alone after last night’s alarming strategy session. “I’m designing a more efficient way to pass the sun’s energy through a wire coil to light a luminary crystal.”

  My mother did not appear impressed. She glanced at a letter in her hand, then at me. “Can you dance a minuet?”

  I groaned. “You’re going to make me go to some awful party with detestable people again, aren’t you?”

  “Not I.” She tossed the invitation onto my desk, on top of my drying design. The winged horse of Raverra reared up at me in the seal. “The doge requests your presence at a reception for the new diplomatic contingent from Ardence.”

  “Not another tedious—” I stopped. “Wait. From Ardence?”

  “Yes.”

  “The doge requests my presence, specifically?”

  “Requires might be a more accurate word,” La Contessa said. “You and your Falcon both.”

  “He wants Zaira there?” The pen fell from my hand as I sagged in my chair. “He is trying to start a fight, isn’t he?”

  “No, but someone else may be.” My mother settled down on the stool of my little-used vanity to look me in the eyes. “The doge is raising the stakes to flush out the troublemakers, and see how deep this goes. Do you understand?”

  I understood the cold fear in my gut. “No. I don’t see what Raverra could possibly gain by flouting a fire warlock in Ardence’s face at a time like this.”

  “The most obvious reason for Ardence to defy Raverra is a simple testing of boundaries, to see if the Serene City has grown weak enough to relax its hold on the Empire. This is common with ambitious young rulers, and nothing to worry about.” She made a brushing movement, as if Duke Astor Bergandon were an annoying insect. “If that is the case, a warm welcome of the new Ardentine ambassador makes it clear we are still willing to embrace Ardence, while having a fire warlock in pointed attendance sends a message about the potential consequences of rejecting the Serene Accords.”

  “And you think the duke will back down.”

  She shrugged. “If he’s not a fool, he will. But if this is more than a mere testing of limits, we can learn a great deal from the duke’s response—and that of others who may be influencing him.”

  “You mean Vaskandar.”

  “Perhaps. That’s the most obvious possibility. They’d stand a better chance of seizing territory in Loreice if the Empire were distracted with another war. But it’s too early to make assumptions.”

  I stared in disbelief. “Who else could it be? The Empire is at peace. How many enemies do you think we have?”

  La Contessa regarded me through narrowed eyes. “Power always has enemies.”

  I stared at the scar on the back of my wrist. “I suppose it does.”

  “Speaking of which, watch out for Baron Leodra at the reception. He may try to draw you into his schemes. He’s pushing hard to come down on Ardence with punitive force, which would destroy all our hopes for peace.”

  “Why would he want that?” It seemed both cruel and foolish.

  “As a gambit to gain him greater influence.” She exhaled her contempt for such tactics. “Right now, the doge listens to me. Leodra sees Ardence as a point of weakness for me, since my intelligence services and your Uncle Ignazio didn’t warn of Duke Bergandon’s rebellion or prevent it. Leodra has always been a proponent of greater imperial control, and he’s pushing the doge and the Council to adopt his methods instead of mine.”

  My fingertips raked my ruined diagram, crumpling the paper. “That would be terrible for Ardence.”

  “Don’t worry too much about it.” La Contessa’s lips spread in a feline smile. “Baron Leodra will learn his own limits shortly. Everyone has secrets, and I’ve found out his: he has a bastard son he wants to keep hidden. He’ll do what I tell him after we have a little talk at this ball.”

  I couldn’t summon any enthusiasm at her triumph. “Lovely.”

  She came and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful at the reception. Your actions may become moves on the board. I’d rather you were a player than a piece.” Her voice and touch were surprisingly gentle. “As I said, you can’t hide in those books forever.”

  She left in a swish of silk, shutting my door behind her as noiselessly as she’d opened it. I stared down at my marred design, unease spreading like spilled ink.

  I couldn’t even keep Zaira from committing petty theft in the marketplace. Now I’d be responsible for her behavior at a ball with the doge himself in attendance, where one wrong move could trigger a war.

  “I’m invited to a ball at the Imperial Palace?” Zaira snorted. “That’s a good one. Whose idea was that?”

  “The doge’s, actually.”

  Zaira didn’t so much as glance up from her seat on a third-floor balcony overlooking the lagoon. She plucked a summernut from a bowl at her side and hurled it at a gull coming in to land on the Mews pier. The bird veered off, and Zaira laughed.

  “I’m not joking,” I said, vexed.

  “I know that. You don’t have the sense of humor the Graces gave a fish.” She tossed another nut into the deep green water and watched the splash. “I’m sure the old bastard’s up to something. But if the food’s good, I don’t care.”

  I considered whether to tell her she was being used to implicitly threaten Ardence. But no doubt that would just open me up for more ridicule. I tried another tack. “It’s a delicate situation. It’s going to be very important not to offend anyone.”

  She turned a look on me of disbelieving contempt. “How stupid do you think I am?”

  “I know you’re not stupid.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do? Piss in the doge’s wine? I’m not an idiot.”

  “Well …” I tried to think how to put it. “In our interactions so far, you’ve sometimes been a little … rough around the edges …”

  She
shrugged. “That’s because I don’t give a damn about you.”

  “Well, I’m glad we have that clarified,” I snapped.

  “I’d have thought it was clear already.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep any more hasty words from leaping out. Friends, I reminded myself. I wanted to be friends.

  I tried again. “Do you have anything appropriate to wear?”

  “How should I know? I’ve been to so many ducal parties.”

  I’d seen most of her wardrobe strewn across her floor, and I doubted she had a suitable gown. Raverra provided well for its Falcons, but most of them would never need court dress.

  “I could loan you something,” I suggested. She was a good deal shorter and thinner than me; but the servants could take up the hem, and we could lace the corset as tight as it would go. “I have a crimson dress that would be spectacular on you.”

  The mocking indifference in her eyes flickered. I remembered catching her in the act of trying on the blue gown. She probably hadn’t had much chance in her life to dress up.

  I had thought to send over a servant with the gown. But …

  “Would you like to come to my palace beforehand, to get ready with me?” I hurried the words out, before I could change my mind. “I have a maid who’s very good with hair, and you’ll need help getting into your corset.”

  Emotions passed over her face like the shifting shadows of leaves on a windy day. Finally, she tossed her head. “Oh, very well. If you’re so concerned I’ll embarrass you if I get ready on my own.”

  I harbored a suspicion she was bent on embarrassing me regardless. “I look forward to it.”

  I didn’t tell her I’d far rather she pissed in the doge’s wine than started a war with Ardence. She might take that as an invitation.

  “Ridiculous,” Zaira declared. “This whole place is absurd.”

  I turned from my wide window overlooking the Imperial Canal, where I’d gone to draw the drapes, to find Zaira staring around my room with an expression of mingled wonderment and disgust.