The Tethered Mage

by Melissa Caruso

  Marcello stood, arms crossed, mouth set in an unhappy line. I knew if I were a normal Falconer, under his command, he would forbid me to go alone.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, more gently. “The duke has nothing to gain by threatening me, and a great deal to lose. And frankly, I don’t want Zaira along on a delicate diplomatic meeting, regardless.” I turned to Lady Terringer. “Please tell His Grace I accept his invitation.”

  Despite the confidence I tried to project, Leodra’s unfinished warning echoed through my head: If you go to Ardence, you’re in danger. But until I knew where that danger lay, I couldn’t balk at every shadow, or I’d never get anything done.

  “Very well,” Lady Terringer said. “And now, we need to talk about balefire.”

  I nodded, my throat dry as week-old bread. I took a sip of coffee out of desperation, and the bitterness shriveled my tongue.

  “If they run out of time on the doge’s ultimatum, we want to give them every last chance.” Lady Terringer’s face fell into grim folds. I wondered if she’d fought in the Three Years’ War; she was certainly old enough to remember it, and that hard knowledge looked out from her eyes. “First, we’ll warn all Raverrans in Ardence to evacuate and withdraw to the garrison. Frankly, I doubt it will go past that point—the Ardentines will know what’s coming if we pull out of the city. But if they don’t back down then, they will when they see a wall of balefire creeping across the valley toward them.”

  It was a terrible image. “I don’t …” I swallowed. “All right. I understand.”

  Lady Terringer’s voice dropped low and rough as a river bottom. “The other possibility is that Ardence could start the war. They’ve already attacked a Falconer. If they decide to start a fight, most likely their first target will either be this palace or Zaira. If that happens—if Ardentine forces attack us—loose your Falcon.”

  I stirred uncomfortably. But Lady Terringer’s flat stare denied argument. “Don’t wait for an order. If they spit on peace and leap into war with a treacherous attack, they deserve no less. Let the balefire run wild through Ardence until they beg the Serene Empire for mercy.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Zaira and Ignazio joined up with us again on the way out of the Serene Envoy’s palace. The two of them walked arm in arm, Zaira smirking. I suspected they might have been saying unkind things about Lady Terringer. Their glee seemed jarring after the ominous discussion Marcello and I had just had.

  When the coach pulled up and we all started for the door, I caught at Ignazio’s sleeve. “Did you really mean what you said to Lady Terringer, about not helping with the diplomacy?”

  The ironic edge to his expression faded and softened to something sadder. “Of course not. I’ll help.”

  “I knew it.” I squeezed him in a quick hug.

  “But I’ll do it in my own way.” I heard some of my mother’s relentless drive in his grim tone. “On my own, without Terringer. My help will be on my terms, and I’ll make sure I’m the one who gets the credit.”

  “I suppose that’s fair,” I said. It would be easier if he’d work with her, but they clashed so much it might not be a good idea.

  “Yes.” Ignazio nodded. “It’s only fair.”

  We walked out to the carriage together.

  The River Palace, the seat of the dukes of Ardence, always disappointed me with its massive brick facade. Imposing, certainly, but its blocky wings lacked the grace of the spun-sugar arches of the Imperial Palace back home. Once the liveried servants bowed me inside, however, my surroundings became far less utilitarian. The high, arching ceilings blossomed with elaborate white-and-gold carvings and dramatic frescoes; the Bergandons had missed no opportunity to display their wealth and power.

  If the duke was as impressed by appearances as his surroundings suggested, I supposed it was just as well I’d changed to a particularly ostentatious gown for the visit. One of Ignazio’s servants, a maid called Beatrix with enormous brown eyes, had helped me dress. I missed Ciardha, who would have given me notes about the duke’s personality and any relevant news from his court while she directed the lacing of my corset and the selection of my jewels. I’d had to decline well-meaning offers of powder and star-shaped beauty patches from Beatrix, and suffered through an extravagant curling of my hair.

  I supposed I looked lovely, but I’d far rather have any idea at all what the duke might want with me. Without knowing the reason for my invitation, I had to assume my decadent surroundings were enemy territory.

  Some of the courtiers I passed in the cavernous palace entry hall shot me glances full of curiosity or hope, but others scowled and turned away, fury in the set of their shoulders. One old lady in a grandly bejeweled corset and skirts wider than my bedroom doorway muttered “Raverran eel” in my general direction. A sleek young lord dressed all in dove gray—a pointed nod to the Shadow Gentry, I had little doubt—fingered his rapier hilt with a hard gleam in his eye when he first saw me. His companion, a woman who accented her gown with a gray silk sash, murmured the name Cornaro in his ear, and his expression softened; he swept into a bow as I went by.

  A footman led me through a series of impressive chambers to the Hall of Victory. Duke Bergandon awaited me in the opulent private audience chamber, beneath frescoes depicting Ardentine military triumphs. The Grace of Victory floated over all in a painted sky, her flaming sword in hand. All things considered, it was an unfortunately warlike choice of venue.

  The duke rose to greet me with vigor to match his youth. He couldn’t be more than five years my senior, once I looked past the pointed beard and the profusion of gold embroidery on his doublet. We exchanged the requisite courtesies and settled into chairs flanking a low table, which bore an intimidating array of delicacies: airy little pastries, fruits and olives, fine cheeses, figs wrapped in prosciutto, tartgrass crostini. It all looked delicious, but there was no way I could take more than a few bites in this corset, even if I weren’t too tense to eat.

  After a suitably awkward interval of how-was-your-journey and isn’t-it-fine-weather, the duke leaned his elbows on his knees. “Lady Amalia, I invited you here for a reason that may surprise you.”

  “Oh?” I hoped it wasn’t a daggers-and-poison sort of surprise.

  “Indeed.” He turned a forgotten grape in his fingers. A hesitancy shadowed his eyes, which I had never seen in the doge. “It was to ask for your help.”

  Well. “You’re right, Your Grace. That isn’t what I was expecting.”

  “I don’t want to go down in history as the last duke of Ardence.” His temples flexed. “Yet on the one side, I have the Empire, demanding I turn over a jess I don’t have and the perpetrators of an attack I know nothing about. On the other side, I have nobles demanding I refuse to cooperate with the Empire until it returns children it claims not to have taken. And if I cannot somehow reconcile and accomplish these impossible tasks, both sides will hold me responsible for the destruction that follows.” He bared his teeth in a grimace. “I am trapped, Lady Amalia. I can’t get out of this on my own.”

  “I would love to help you.” I hesitated, thinking how to phrase this. “I do have, ah, a particular mission here in Ardence, however …”

  “I know why you’re here.” His tone turned bitter. “Lady Terringer made the doge’s message quite clear weeks ago. This further escalation with your fire warlock is not necessary. It may wound the pride of Ardence to bow before Raverra, but our military power is insufficient to start a war over pride alone. I assure you, I am chastened enough already.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “With all respect, Your Grace, I would not characterize Ardence’s behavior toward the Serene City as chastened.”

  His hand closed around the grape, crushing it. “Everything was going well enough with Lady Terringer. Much as I might prefer your cousin’s gentler methods, we had reached an understanding, I believe. But the children! I cannot back down now, Lady Amalia. My nobles are crying out for justice.”

  “But Your Grace,” I
said carefully, “Raverra didn’t take the children. Surely Lady Terringer has told you the letters claiming that the Empire was holding them were false.”

  “I know that.” Duke Astor rose and started pacing. “But it’s hard to convince my court when reports say the imperial seal was real, and no one will tell us how that came to pass. And the memory of Ardence is long. No one has forgotten Raverra did this to us before, when it conquered our city and absorbed it into the Empire. Besides, everyone knows Raverra is hardly innocent of claiming one thing publicly and doing another privately. Like when my great-great-uncle had a boating accident after he tried to stay out of the Three Years’ War due to trade pacts with Vaskandar. The Empire extended its condolences to my great-grandfather, but he nonetheless understood the message and threw his full support behind Raverra in the war.”

  “This isn’t like that,” I protested. But Baron Leodra had willingly put his seal on those documents. If the Ardentines knew that, they might not see much difference.

  “Some of my nobles understand that. But some are quite willing to believe the worst of Raverra.” The duke leaned on the ornately carved chair he’d vacated. “Others might see reason, if they were thinking clearly. But their children are gone. Have you ever dealt with a parent whose child is in danger, Lady Amalia?”

  I remembered what had happened to my would-be kidnappers when a political rival attempted to have me abducted when I was thirteen. My mother had ruthlessly tracked down every single individual involved in the attempt, no matter how large or small their role, and had them all summarily executed.

  “Yes.”

  “Until their children are safe, they will see no reason. They will brook no peace. They would rather watch the city burn to the ground than bow down to the ones they think stole their heirs.”

  “I want to avert war and find the children as much as you do,” I assured him. “That’s why I’m here, believe it or not.”

  “Then help me. I’m a proud man, Lady Amalia; it isn’t easy for me to ask. Do not refuse me this.” His pointed beard jumped as his jaw tightened. He’d probably grown it to look older.

  I spread my hands. “What do you think I can do?”

  “I can’t yet receive the Serene Envoy at court again. The Council of Lords wouldn’t stand for it. Ignazio Cornaro is the one Raverran my nobles trust; they see his removal as the turning point when everything went wrong. But I can’t hold diplomatic talks with the old Serene Envoy while refusing the new one. That would compound the insult to the Serene Empire.” The duke dropped back into his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You, however, I can talk to all I want. The Cornaro name and your connections to Ardence leave you in good standing with my nobles, despite being a representative of the Empire.”

  “You want me to act as a go-between with the Serene Envoy?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I would not waste your time carrying messages, my lady. I can send those through other means.” He spread his hands wide. “I want you to be seen in my court. Spend time here, at the River Palace, doing whatever you please—visiting me, visiting the library, speaking to the courtiers. Let all see you are welcome here: my nobles, and the doge and Council as well. Show the world that Ardence can still be a friend to Raverra, despite the dramatic gestures the Shadow Gentry insist on. Will you do this simple thing to help us make peace?”

  I nodded. “I’d be glad to.”

  “Excellent.” He ran restless fingers over his armrests. “And … one more thing. Your mother. La Contessa Lissandra Cornaro. She has the doge’s ear, it’s said. Could you perhaps convince her—”

  I lifted a hand to stop him. This was far from the first time I’d heard that opening. “My mother makes her own decisions, Your Grace. If you want something from her, I recommend you use your courier lamps and ask her yourself.” I sighed. “Besides, the doge is less likely to back down than your nobles are. The whole world is watching, and he can’t capitulate to threats to pillars of the Empire like the Serene Accords and the Falconers.”

  The duke’s shoulders slumped. “Then you had best hope someone finds those children, Lady Amalia. For until they’re safely returned to their parents, two and a half years won’t be enough to convince them to bow to Raverra again, let alone two and a half days.”

  Lady Savony stopped me on my way out. A stern glance from her banished the footman who had been conducting me to the door.

  “So, Lady Amalia,” she greeted me, “what did you think of our duke?”

  Her tone invited candor, and she didn’t strike me as a woman who valued empty politeness. “Proud,” I said, “and desperate.”

  “Too proud.” Her gaze swept the baroque excess of the palace ceiling with disapproval. “If he had listened to me and exercised more restraint, he would not have had to become so desperate. I will do anything it takes to save my city, Lady Amalia. Even if the enemy I must save it from is itself.”

  This seemed rather direct criticism of the duke from his supposed voice and hands. “Why are you telling me this, Lady Savony?”

  She toyed with the golden chain of her spectacles. “Do you know the history of my family, my lady?”

  The name Savony seemed familiar, and I was sure I’d seen it in histories of Ardence, but I couldn’t recall the particulars. I shook my head.

  “We ruled Ardence, once. Before it joined the Empire. But the Bergandons betrayed my ancestors, and took the ducal throne—as, to be fair, the Savony family had taken it from others. It was an unsettled time.” She frowned at a painting of a battle scene, full of movement and chaos and the rolling eyes of frightened horses. “My ancestors were wise, however. Instead of seeking vengeance, they swore service to the city they could no longer rule, but could still nurture and protect. Since then we have always served Ardence, often as stewards or other positions more pragmatic than glorious. We never receive credit for what we have done, but we seek none; our sole concern is the welfare of Ardence. We have run this city, as much as any duke, and under our watch it has flourished.” She took a sharp breath through her nose. “So I will not allow the current dissolute batch of nobles to ruin my city with their lack of prudence. I would rather see Ardence under direct imperial rule than see it destroyed.”

  “I don’t want to see it destroyed, either.” It occurred to me that Lady Savony probably knew Ardence better than any of my own friends, or the duke himself. “To save Ardence, we need to find the kidnapped heirs. They’re either being held in the city or were smuggled out. Either way, a number of people were involved, posing as Falconers and moving the children, who knew the city well enough to disappear into it. Who would have access to that manner of person, both unscrupulous and discreet? Spymasters? Criminal lords? Someone in Ardence must have an idea who could have done it.”

  “You think like a Raverran.” She shook her head; her dark hair, pulled back tightly to her scalp, did not so much as stir. “Ardence is less versed in such subtleties.”

  “You can’t tell me there’s no one.”

  Lady Savony considered me a moment. Then she flipped open her little notebook and started scribbling. “We don’t have an intelligence service per se, but a few people investigate things for me from time to time. There is a gossip sheet whose editor seems remarkably well informed. One or two smugglers and proprietors of gambling dens do occasionally provide us with information. And the Shadow Gentry may have relevant connections, as well.”

  She tore a page out of her notebook and handed me a list of about a dozen names in an elegant, loopy script, with brief identifying notes beside each. “We are already searching for the children, naturally, but should you wish to pursue your own investigation, I would begin with these people. Some might point you in the right direction; others you should consider suspects.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced at the page. My heart stumbled; one of the names was Gabril Bergandon. “I’ll begin investigating these people immediately.” I folded the paper and tucked it into my dagger sheath, for lack of an
ywhere else to put it.

  “You will have to do more than that.” Lady Savony grasped my arm, her fingers strong and thin like cabled wire. “You’ve met the duke. He’ll never get his court in line in less than three days. You’re going to have to make a choice soon, Amalia Cornaro, about how far you will go to save this city.”

  I stared helplessly into the dark intensity of her gaze. “I am quite aware of that, Lady Savony.”

  After a long moment, she released me. “When that day comes, I pray to the Grace of Wisdom you make the right choice.”

  She dipped the briefest bow in my direction, then snapped her book closed and stalked away, her boots echoing on the marble floor.

  On the way out of the River Palace, I passed through the Hall of Beauty, the soaring central space in which all the wings of the palace came together. Sunlight poured down from windows ringing its high dome, framing an extravagant fresco of the Grace of Beauty resting on a bed of clouds, surrounded by throngs of attendants who seemed to be dressed mostly in dramatically flowing scarves.

  It was the pulsing heart of the River Palace, through which all information flowed. Petitioners waiting to speak to the duke mingled with palace officials and staff. Nobles of the Council of Lords held conversations in corners. Footmen and pages hurried back and forth across the hall with messages. I scanned the courtiers lingering in the hall, wondering if I should try to overhear some conversations.

  “Amalia!” It was Venasha, her arms full of books. I waved back and hurried over to her, relieved to see her smiling after yesterday.

  “Venasha! Good to see you. Do you need help with those?”

  “Oh, no, I’m happy to carry them. I just acquired them for the Ducal Library, and I’m quite excited. Two volumes of Ostan poetry, a Loreician dueling manual, and a new translation of an ancient Callamornish saga.” She beamed with pride.