A sly smile touched Magistre Ulton’s lips, quickly smoothed away. At the reminder, I guessed, that I was a mere guest in Vere, never to be a scholar in residence.
“I wish to thank the Pedagno and Vere for agreeing to lend books to be copied for the Roth’s library. My lord will not forget your generosity,” I said. “I have selected the ones I would like to borrow.”
“Pedagno?” Magistre Ulton said. “Surely you want to see and approve the volumes. There are books that must not leave Vere, even for so noble a purpose as starting a library.” His tone belied his words. He clearly believed, like most of the scholars, that the Roth had no business making books.
“A reasonable suggestion,” the Pedagno allowed. “One we can dispatch quickly enough.” He began to lever himself to his feet.
“Wait, Pedagno,” I said. Hal had said he seemed stronger, but that was before. Now his face was gray, lined with exhaustion. Making his way up the steps to the library...I shuddered at the thought of the strain on him. Too late. The luton sickness was too far gone before we got here. Untainted food was keeping him from getting worse, but not helping him get better.
“Doctora Bann—” Magistre Ulton said coldly. The Pedagno allowed himself to sink back into his seat while he waited for me to continue.
“Surely the Pedagno needn’t come to the library himself,” I said. “I can tell him the books I’ve chosen. He can approve or disallow as he deems fit. Someone else—yourself, or perhaps Doctore Orsenius—can return to the library with me to ensure I pack only those volumes the Pedagno agreed to lend.”
My heart wrung at the relief on the Pedagno’s face. “That will do,” he said. Magistre Ulton scowled but said nothing. The Pedagno scrolled a hand weakly. “Which books have you selected?”
“Magistre Bulton’s vita of Otto…“ I listed the books I’d chosen. I had suspected Magistre Ulton would want to know which volumes I meant to borrow, to raise concerns if he could. But he was forced to nod agreement after each; all were books useful to seed Elbany’s library, and existed in more than one copy in Vere. At the worst, from Magistre Ulton’s point of view, if I refused to return them after he seized control of Vere, nothing was lost. His face told me the calculation had indeed gone through his mind, and I wondered once more whether he lacked the noble’s skill of dissembling or was simply not bothering to use it, supposing Hal and I so powerless that concealing his intents was not worth the effort. Not necessarily an incorrect conclusion, I had to admit.
“Very well,” the Pedagno said. “Magistre Ulton, check the volumes yourself before our guest packs them.”
“I’ll have Doctore Orsenius see to it,” he said.
I was irked at his blatant refusal to do as his lord commanded, but clamped it down. There was nothing I could do. Or nothing more than what we were about to try.
Magistre Ulton looked at me smugly. Most likely my anger was as clear on my face as the insolence was on his. He decided to take it further. “If that is all, Doctora Bann...?” His gaze flicked towards the door.
He was trying to seize the Pedagno’s prerogative and dismiss me. I looked pointedly at the Pedagno. “If we could beg the Pedagno’s hearing for one moment more.” I gestured to Hal.
He stepped forward. “Pedagno, you’ve already been so generous towards the Roth. Might I beg a favor for my lord as well?”
Genuine surprise crossed the Pedagno’s face for a half-breath. “Philip of Ragonne desires a favor? Beyond a new clerk? I did not forget that request.” One hand fluttered from the arm of his chair towards Magistre Ulton. “My Clerk has been compiling a list of prospects. We will send Philip his new clerk within the month.”
But, I thought unwillingly, it might not be your hand that signs the letter introducing him.
“Thank you, Pedagno. Let me convey my lord’s thanks as well for your prompt attention to his request.” Hal paused. “If I may, I have another to put before you.”
“Pedagno—” Magistre Ulton said impatiently. “You have shown these guests the depth of Vere’s generosity already.”
“Peace,” the Pedagno said, his voice low and windy. “There’s no harm in hearing what is asked.”
“I’m afraid it will seem a trifle, after such discussion.” Hal bowed his head. “King Philip has created a library, like Elbany. Given his newfound interest in books, he might in time become willing to sponsor a scholar at Vere.” He looked at Magistre Ulton in surprise, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Something like Verun’s endowment of the Pedagno’s own clerk. If I could bring back a copy of the charter that founded that position, the example of how such an agreement should be handled would be instructive if King Philip set his mind to do so.”
“Pedagno!” Magistre Ulton exploded. “Philip of Ragonne? Sponsor a scholar?” Words failed him. He made a noise of disgust and disbelief, followed by a narrow-eyed examination of Hal. Hal blinked blandly, the picture of an earnest servant.
The Pedagno coughed into a handkerchief. “You are to be commended for your diligence,” he said when he recovered himself. “I admit I concur with Magistre Ulton. From what I know of the king of Ragonne, it seems unlikely he would endow a scholar. But,” he said, and lifted one shaking hand, “people, even kings, may change. Perhaps you are right. Whatever led him to create a library may in time lead to more.”
Magistre Ulton snapped a furious glare at the Pedagno, who gave it no notice.
“Regardless of the depth of Philip of Ragonne’s interest in books,” the Pedagno continued, “he may find he has other reasons to seek the favor of Vere.” The Pedagno steepled his fingers, pressing the tips together as if to still them. “I wonder how much like his father he will prove. Vere will not accept another like Domon without a demonstration of Ragonne’s gratitude.”
My admiration soared. Weak and ill, he made a better case for the plan we laid before him than we had, and on the instant. Insinuating that Philip might have bastards of his own to place, and be looking to garner Vere’s good wishes, was a more credible stance than Philip becoming interested in books. One Hal and I should have come up with on our own.
“You may see the Verun charter,” the Pedagno said. “There are others that would be useful examples as well. The charter in which the High King sponsored the renovation of our port house, for instance, or the King of Eban’s provision of new tapestries for the scriptorium...” His eyes hazed as he listed charters, so earnestly I wondered if in his scholarly engagement of the question, he had forgotten the request was a ruse.
“Is it advisable,” Magistre Ulton’s voice frayed with irritation, “to allow this...” his disdainful gaze raked Hal, “person to examine Vere’s private, legal documents?”
The Pedagno’s eyebrows rose. “These charters are not sensitive or secret, or especially old. Vere’s inner workings are our own, but these documents do not touch upon such matters.”
Magistre Ulton’s eyes flared. “Shall I accompany our guest to the library to...assist him?” By which he surely meant ensure Hal did not steal any of the charters, which, as his haughty glance conveyed, he believed him likely to try.
“A generous offer.” The Pedagno inclined his head. “Since Doctora Bann has completed her task—”
If only, I thought.
“—she can undertake the more tedious demands of a good guest,” he smiled, real affection and amusement shining through his weariness, “and keep her host company while you do so. As her companion has been so good to do while she selected her books.”
Magistre Ulton’s head swiveled so quickly my neck hurt. “But...” Looking like a bee-stung bull, he swallowed the rest of his words.
This, too, was as Hal had intended. Or part of it. ‘I do not think the Pedagno believes it is possible to regain his authority,’ he had said as we rode. ‘He sees his death coming down a straight path.’ He had waited while I blinked away wetness. ‘So he craves what he believes is possible: a few hours in friendly company.’ Maneuvering Magistre Ulton into watchi
ng Hal read and copy charters, leaving the Pedagno and me alone, was an unlooked-for blessing. At least by us. The Pedagno had seized the opportunity with both hands. And had suggested the other charters, to give us more time. Oh, my maestro.
“We can provide you ink and parchment but you will have to make the copies yourself. Unless Magistre Ulton means to help you.”
The Clerk’s nostrils flared.
“No?” The Pedagno lifted one shoulder. “How long will it take, then?”
“Unless they are unusually long charters,” Hal said, “a few days. Four at most.”
“It is late to begin such work today,” the Pedagno said. “Is tomorrow acceptable?”
“I could ask no better,” Hal said, truthfully enough. The Pedagno’s quick thinking meant his plan was progressing better than we had hoped. The charter would list the formal requirements of the arrangement, what would be expected of the Clerk, what Vere would receive in return. If we were lucky, it would list how the contract could be invalidated. I did not feel especially blessed by fortune at that moment, but nothing was lost by looking. We might yet find a way to help the Pedagno. If not...a few hours in friendly company was more than many men had as death approached.
“Thank you. I have been honored to meet you, Pedagno.” Hal went on, spinning more complimentary phrases, all the more skillful for sounding sincere. Some were directed towards Magistre Ulton as well. His depth of tact was far beyond mine.
I slanted a look at him, pleased to have a moment to study him unremarked. How had he known the way a new Pedagno was chosen in the absence of a designated heir? The Pedagno would not have told him. Had Cynan Maccus’ illicit family been privy to the secrets of Vere, and passed the knowledge down? He had seemed young when I met him, but he had to be older than he looked. He rode as well as any nobleman but was not thick muscled like a warrior. He was scarred like one, though. Not just his arms. As we rode back to Vere, he had tipped his head to watch a bird’s flight. A faded line of silver had come into view, where a man would cut another man’s throat. The blow must not have been deep or he would not have lived. But it had been enough to leave that mark.
Whatever he had been before, minding Domon had been an improvement, despite its dangers.
I wondered suddenly what he thought of being dragged away from Ragonne, and the concomitant troubles gathering like flies at the jakes. I had been sent by my lord to search for information to help Elbany, and had come to Vere under that same aegis, as well as a desire to aid the Pedagno if I could. Hal was here because Mistress Baynor and I had decided his hands were competent and appropriated them. I had no idea whether leaving Ragonne had been a hardship for him, whether he had family or friends who would mourn his absence.
I shrugged down a creeping feeling of guilt. Our situations were, perhaps, not so different. The Roth had commanded me and I had gone. Hal’s king had sent him, and he had gone. What either of us might have chosen did not matter.
That was not fully true. If the Roth had requested rather than directed, I would have gone. I didn’t know whether Hal would say the same. Perhaps it still did not matter. It might have been civil to request his company. But if he had refused, would either Mistress Baynor or I have let him be? He and I were the only ones who could read Old Valenian. At least he did not have the aggravation of having had his view asked and then ignored.
But the reproachful itch between my shoulder blades did not go away.
Chapter X
I pushed my spoon around the bowl, heedlessly mangling the few remaining blackberries. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed the berries; I had, very much. In Ragonne, berry season had passed but in cooler Vere, as well as Elbany and Bruster proper, their ripening came later. My thoughts had turned to the work of the morning, and I’d begun—or, more accurately, resumed—fretting about what Hal and I would encounter when we put our hands to our tasks. It had been gratifying to see Magistre Ulton startled and enraged, but it was rarely wise to tweak, let alone thwart, bad-tempered and powerful men. I had little doubt that Magistre Ulton, despite his outward acquiescence to the Pedagno’s commands, could have devised a plan by this morning to keep the Pedagno observed and the charters unexamined if he decided both were crucial to his aims.
So when Doctore Orsenius left me at the Pedagno’s door to escort Hal to the library, I was not surprised it was Magistre Ulton who answered my knock.
“The Doctora has returned.” He opened the door but did not move. His tone was patronizing, as one would speak to a child or a pet, and he said ‘doctora’ with a slight emphasis, as if to imply he thought the title unmerited.
His gaze caught mine, fiercely predatory, and I fought to hold his eyes without flaring into anger. His verbal arrows were too subtle to allow open protest. He could easily deny any offense had been meant. But it had. His hard gaze and aggressive stance underscored his message. Do not oppose me. I let my eyes drop, thinking it best to allow him to believe he had cowed me.
A thin smile creased his face. He stepped back. I walked towards the hearth but the Pedagno was not in his chair.
“The Pedagno is finishing his breakfast,” Magistre Ulton said. “Do sit down while we wait for him.” He seated himself in the Pedagno’s chair.
I understood the purpose of his brash action, but nonetheless I stood in shocked silence for a moment. He dared... I took the chair from near the harp, the one Hal had used our first night in Vere, and joined him beside the hearth, leaving the second chair free. The one he should have occupied. I knew my posture was stiff, betraying my discomfiture.
“He hardly eats these days,” he said somewhat later, as if he had savored his small victory long enough. “You were his...student.” The implication I was more was clear. But that tired accusation did not stoke my indignation, and he moved on. His face went clear of all but solicitude. “Perhaps you could persuade him to eat more. He needs to build up his strength.”
“The Pedagno is not a child, to be chided with his vegetables,” I said.
He clicked his tongue, sounding like nothing so much as someone’s anxious grandmother. One who poisons the gingerbread, I thought, even as I acknowledged the man’s skills. He had clearly been surprised the evening before and had shown more than he would have liked. This morning he was prepared. His demeanor betrayed nothing but helpful worry. “I am concerned for him,” he said primly.
“Why?” Even Reynard the fox, who would not break cover for a hunter subtly tracking his path could sometimes be started by a headlong rush. Magistre Ulton had likewise shown himself susceptible to surprise.
He blinked but recovered in a heartbeat, unctuous apprehension filling his face like molten wax poured into a wooden tablet frame. “You may not have noticed, being so recently arrived, but the Pedagno is not well.” His tone implied if I had not noticed I was either a dolt or uncaring. “I hope his health is not failing.”
“The Pedagno does seem more fragile than when I knew him as novicia,” I allowed. “But his health may improve.”
“We were untimely robbed of our last Pedagno.” He lowered his voice. “We can only hope circumstances will allow our new Pedagno to prosper.” His tone roughened. The threat was not as submerged as he probably meant it to be.
“Hal spent the last two days with him,” I said. “He thought the Pedagno was getting no worse.”
“Ah. Yes.” His eyes flashed, looking as I imagined a leoyong would just before it pounced. “Hal. Do tell me about him.”
This was treacherous terrain. I didn’t want to admit how little I knew about Hal. Neither did I care to tell him what I did know. “He is a servant of the king of Ragonne,” I said, telling him only what he already knew.
He was undeterred. “Have you...known...him long?”
The insinuation was obvious. I was surprised he would try that gambit again, having found no success with it only moments before.
“Hal was sent to Vere to deliver a gift, as well as to convey Philip’s formal request for a new clerk.” I again to
ld him no more than what he already knew.
“But surely you—” Impatience crept into his voice.
The door to the inner room opened. The Pedagno entered, unsteadily balancing a tray. I leaped up to take it from him. Turning back, I saw Magistre Ulton now occupied the other chair. Clearly the moment the door opened he had slid from the Pedagno’s seat to the second, quiet as a water snake.
“Good morning, alumna,” the Pedagno said. “Magistre Ulton.”
I placed the tray on the small table between the chairs.
“Pedagno,” Magistre Ulton said, all unctuous concern once more, “you’ve scarcely eaten.”
The Pedagno shook his head. “I’m not hungry. Perhaps when the harvest comes in. New apples...” his voice trailed off. “Fresh fruits and vegetables.”
Magistre Ulton scowled, thinking, I felt certain, how much more difficult it would be to taint newly-picked food. “Of course, Pedagno. It may indeed.”
The Pedagno looked expectantly at Magistre Ulton, who gazed back, his face bland and brazen at the same time. After a moment his eyes flicked to me. “Master Carlson has gone to the library?”
“Magistre Orsenius left with him after he escorted me here.”
He nodded, his attention returning to Magistre Ulton. “You offered to help him locate the charters.”
“Of course,” Magistre Ulton said again, both hands slapping down onto his knees, too heartily. He stood. “I do hope we will be able to provide him the assistance you have promised.” He turned, his hand on the door latch. “We have so many books in our collection. It can be difficult to find a particular manuscript. Small items, like charters, are especially easy to misplace.”
I waited until the sounds of his footsteps, muffled by the heavy door, died away. “That sounded...”
“I know.” The Pedagno leaned his head back against his chair. When he spoke again, his voice was strained but the gaze that met mine was glowing with satisfaction. “Good.”
I made a puzzled sound, gesturing to the fireplace.
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