She sighed. She wouldn’t have believed the rumours, if she hadn’t seen the ... whatever she’d seen. She’d read about all kinds of magics that might have produced some of the effects, but ... none of them would have produced the whole. And most of them couldn’t have hidden from her senses either. Whatever they’d encountered had been something new. Once upon a time, that would have fascinated her. Now ... now, she was scared.
“All right,” she said. “You have to know what’s going on. What do you want me to do about it?”
She met his eyes. “Even if I wasn’t disowned, even if my blood is still connected to the family, coming this far from the Golden City must have taken weeks,” she added. “I assume you haven’t come just to give me the news.”
“No,” Alden said. “Lord Robin has been hired by the Crown Prince. I want you to go with them when they cross the channel. And ... once you’re there, I want you to investigate the stories. If there’s any truth to them, we need to know.”
“I see,” Isabella said. “And how much are you going to pay?”
Alden blinked. “Pay?”
“I’m a mercenary,” Isabella said. She took a certain savage glee in being able to shock him, even now. He hadn’t looked so flabbergasted when Isabella had been caught in bed with one of her fellow trainees. “I need to be paid.”
“You’re my sister,” Alden said. “You ...”
Isabella fought down a rising tide of red anger. “Don’t even think of going there,” she snarled. “You ... father kicked me out, remember? You were there when he disowned me.”
She cut him off before he could say a word. “You didn’t stop him from giving me the boot, did you? You never got in touch with me, did you? Not until you needed me. What do I care about the family? It’s ...”
“It’s not about the family,” Alden said. There was a hint of guilt in his voice. “It’s about finding out what’s going on.”
“And why,” Isabella demanded, “should I care about what’s going on?”
“Whatever is happening,” Alden said, “needs to be investigated. The Golden City ...”
“The Golden City is a ruin,” Isabella said. “And the Grand Sorcerers are dead!”
Alden took a long breath. “What do you want?”
Isabella hesitated. She’d often told herself that she’d demand a high price, when her father finally realised his mistake and called her back home. But ... she’d never expected the old bastard to die. He’d been a powerful sorcerer, one of the strongest magicians in the Golden City. He should have lived longer. The magic in his bloodline should have kept him alive for over a century. But now he was gone.
She felt a sob catch in her throat. Her other brothers were gone. They’d been closer to her than her sisters, but ... they were gone. And her sisters were gone too. She’d never imagined losing everyone but Alden. She’d never imagined that the whole family – and civilised society – could die. The Empire had seemed utterly indestructible. It was terrifying to realise just how quickly it had fallen apart. Andalusia was one of the most powerful kingdoms in the region, but it was tiny compared to the immensity the Grand Sorcerers had ruled.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just ... don’t know.”
Alden reached out and touched her hand, gently. Isabella nearly jerked away before relaxing into the contact. It wasn’t one he’d offered her very often, not when he’d spent far too long pretending to be their father. And yet ...
“You can come home, if you like,” Alden said. “Or ... there are places for you, if you want.”
Isabella snorted, rudely. It wasn’t as if she’d be welcome in the Golden City, even now. Or ... the city was ruined, after all. Maybe she would be welcome. Or ...
“My share of the inheritance,” she said, finally. “And ... and enough money to keep me going for a while.”
“That can be arranged,” Alden said. His lips quirked. “You do realise that most of the inheritance is gone?”
“You give me half of what’s left, save for what’s entailed,” Isabella said. Alden was the eldest son. The entailed property would go straight to him, now their father was dead. It was a point of law. “And you send the money out here.”
Alden took a long breath. “And afterwards, will you come home?”
“You told me that home no longer exists,” Isabella said, sharply. She felt another odd pang of grief. The family mansion in the Golden City had been a hard place to grow up, but the estates in the countryside had been fun. She’d loved running in the fields and playing in the gardens more than she cared to admit. “What is there to come home to?”
“We are trying to rebuild magic,” Alden said. “You have training we can use.”
“I know,” Isabella said, softly. Oddly, she felt better about knowing he did have an ulterior motive. She would have been suspicious if he’d professed brotherly love for her. “I’ll consider it, after we return from the Summer Isle.”
Alden rose. “I thank you,” he said, formally. He produced a sheet of parchment from his trouser pocket and held it out to her. “I have established a number of contacts at King Romulus’s court. You can send a message to me through them.”
“Which will still take weeks to reach you,” Isabella said. She’d grown far too used to the crystal ball network. “Is there any way to speed letters up?”
“Not any longer,” Alden said. “And even if we could, the kings wouldn’t let us.”
Isabella looked down. How the mighty fall ...
She rose. “I ... thank you for coming,” she said. She wasn’t sure how she felt, but ... she knew she should say something. “And ... I hope we’ll see each other again, soon.”
“I have rooms at the bank,” Alden said. “You are welcome to join me.”
He paused. “And you probably should get married,” he added. “Right now, I’m unmarried too.”
Isabella’s eyebrows shot up. She’d always assumed their father would have found Alden a bride, eventually. There would come a time when Alden would shuffle off the marriage market anyway, unless he wanted a vast age difference between him and his wife. And their father would have wanted grandchildren ...
“I haven’t had the time,” Alden said. “And even if I wanted to, I don’t have a bride.”
Because the family is no longer what it was, Isabella thought. Once, Alden would have been sure of a girl from the very highest levels of magical society. She’d known parents who would cheerfully rid themselves of an unwanted son-in-law just so their daughter could marry into House Majuro. But now ... Alden was nowhere near so important. And who’d want to marry him without a vast dowry?
“I’m sorry,” she said. She didn’t think any of the friends she’d known at school would have wanted him, not without the promise of powerful children. “I ...”
She closed her eyes in pain. Too many of the friends she’d known – and the enemies who’d hexed her and been hexed in return – would be dead. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what had happened to them. The boring girls who’d only talked of marriage, the boys who’d bragged of adventure ... where were they? Dead now, perhaps. So few had left the Golden City ...
“It’s not a problem,” Alden said. “Just ... think about it, please.”
Isabella snorted. “No one would want to marry me,” she said. “And to hell with anyone who says differently.”
Chapter Five
It had been years – literally – since Isabella had spoken a prayer for the dead.
She sat in the centre of her room – dark, cramped, smelly and thoroughly disgusting – and placed a candle on the floor, lighting it with a single spell. It wasn’t a traditional candle, but she doubted her family were in any state to care. They were one with the household gods now, if tradition was to be believed ... unless they’d earned eternal damnation instead. She found it hard to decide where her father would have gone, after his death. He’d been a hard man, but he hadn’t been evil.
The flame flickered as air ble
w through the room. Isabella sucked in her breath, then began the prayer. It was five years too late, but it hardly mattered. She hadn’t known about their deaths until Alden had told her. She’d always assumed that her father and his children had survived whatever had destroyed the Golden City. She certainly hadn’t felt their deaths ... although, as she’d been disowned, that was probably meaningless. Or had been probably meaningless. Alden had told her she could go home, if she wished.
Home doesn’t exist anymore, she thought, as she concentrated on the flickering light. The flame seemed to grow brighter as she muttered the prayer, repeating it for each of the dead. I am still alone.
She shook her head, mournfully. She’d never dared put down roots, not since she’d left the Golden City. It had seemed easier to keep herself to herself, joining mercenary bands or private guardsmen for a few months and then moving on when she started feeling too comfortable. It just hadn’t been safe to relax, she’d thought. There’d been no reason to believe that anyone was after her, but ... she sighed, shaking her head again. She’d always been given to wanderlust.
Father’s influence, she told herself. He always wanted me to stick to one thing.
She finished the prayer, then reached out and snuffed out the candlelight. The room went dark, completely dark. There were no chinks of light from the outside world ... she smiled, wryly, as she realised the room genuinely was sealed. She hadn’t expected so much, when she’d requested a private room. But then, there was no need to bed down with the rest of the company. It wasn’t as if they were marching to war.
Some people claimed to see visions of the dead, shortly after speaking the prayer. Isabella waited, but saw nothing. Her father and siblings were already gone to the next world, she guessed. Alden would have cremated their bodies, if they’d ever been found. There was too great a chance of a powerful magician rising again – as a soulless lich – or their blood and bones being used for dark rituals. Their bodies had to be destroyed and the ashes scattered over the estate.
She closed her eyes for a long moment, recalling her father. He’d shaped her more than he’d wished, she thought. She had all of his stubbornness and magical talent ... too much stubbornness to accept his plans for her, too much talent to be simply ignored or married off at the first opportunity. Their fights ... by all the gods, their fights! She’d loved him, in her way, but she’d also wanted to strike out on her own. Her disownment had seemed a blessing in disguise. It wasn’t as if she’d had any trouble earning money after she’d been kicked out with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Father probably considered that a huge concession, she thought, sourly. Technically, a disowned daughter can’t take anything from the family ... even clothes.
She concentrated, reaching out in hopes of feeling her father’s presence. But there was nothing ... nothing but the faint sense of background magic. She took a long breath, then opened her eyes. The darkness ebbed and flowed around her as she picked up the candle and lit it again, then removed her boots and walked to the bed. Lord Robin wanted an early morning meeting, after all. He was probably going to regret it. Big Richard was definitely going to regret it.
He’ll have one hell of a hangover, she thought, vindictively. Thankfully, she’d managed to find and heal the barmaid before her father took the poor girl to the nearest sawbones. A magic-less healer couldn’t have done anything for her, save perhaps for amputating the broken arm. Big Richard deserved to suffer. And it serves the bastard right.
She lay down on the bed, muttering a couple of spells to keep bugs away. Sleeping in her clothes was uncomfortable, but she was damned if she was sleeping naked on the bed. The gods alone knew how many people had slept on it, over the last few years. She rather doubted it had been cleaned, either. Spells or no spells, she was probably going to be itchy tomorrow. It was a shame there were no washtubs in the inn ...
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on meditating. Her father was dead ... her family was dead, save for her least-liked brother. The irony irked her more than she cared to admit. If any of the others had asked her home, she might have agreed. But Alden ... she sighed as a wave of tiredness threatened to overcome her. They’d always got along better when there was some distance between them. And ...
She opened her eyes. She’d slept and now ... she sat upright, casting a light-spell as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was early morning, but she could hear people moving in the streets outside. Commoners never got to sleep into the later hours, not when there was too much to do. She stepped into the washroom, splashed a little water on her face and then headed through the door. A handful of guests were already making their way down to the dining room. Breakfast would be waiting for them.
Lord Robin greeted her with a wave as she stepped into the room. He looked disgustingly fresh and cheerful as she shuffled over to sit at his table, even though she was sure he’d gone to bed later than her. But then, he’d always put more effort into his appearance than she’d ever done. If she hadn’t known he’d had a string of mistresses, she would have wondered if he was more interested in men than woman. But then, Big Richard and quite a few others had accused her of being strikingly masculine.
The barmaid bustled over. “What can I get you?”
Isabella made a face. The inn’s food wasn’t very good, although there was plenty of it. She didn’t really want to eat, but ... she knew she had to keep up her strength. She ordered food and drink, then sat back to wait. The barmaid returned with surprising speed, carrying a platter of eggs, sausages and a single goblet of wine. She wanted coffee, but there was none to be had. These days, with trade routes lying in ruins, no one – not even the rich – could find coffee for love or money.
“Very suspicious looking sausages,” Lord Robin said. “What do you think they are?”
Isabella shrugged as she cast a spell, making sure the food was safe to eat. She didn’t want to know what sort of meat had gone into the sausages. Pork or lamb or ... something far less savoury. Commoners would eat anything, even rat. Whoever had minced the meat to create sausages had flavoured it heavily, probably to disguise the original taste. Perhaps it was horse. There was a knackery just down the street.
She met his eyes. “What did Alden say to you?”
“Alden? Smyth?”
Isabella mentally kicked herself. “His name is Alden,” she said, crossly. Perhaps, just perhaps, Lord Robin would draw a line between Alden Majuro and Isabella Majuro. Or perhaps not. The Golden City was a long way away. And House Majuro was no longer the power it had been. “What did he say to you?”
“Very little,” Lord Robin said. “He just said he wanted to talk to you.”
He cocked his head. “Was it something I should know about?”
“I don’t know,” Isabella said. “But I’ll tell you when I find out.”
They finished the meal in silence, then headed down to the private meeting room. Robin nodded to one of the chairs, inviting her to sit, then hurried to find the others. Isabella felt a flicker of sympathy for the men, even though some of them had been more than a little unwelcoming. Robin expected them to attend, hangovers or no hangovers. She concentrated on casting privacy spells as the door opened, admitting the remainder of the company. Big Richard didn’t look at her as he slunk into the room, one hand half-covering his eyes. The drink had finally caught up with him.
And I was supposed to find him a hangover cure, Isabella remembered. Oops.
Lord Robin returned, locking and bolting the door as soon as he’d counted heads. “Isabella, please make this room secure,” he said. “Everyone else, sit down and take a glass of water.”
Big Richard didn’t make any snide remarks as Isabella finished casting the privacy spells. He must be really hungover, she decided. Or perhaps he was ill. She checked the wards carefully, layering them in place to deter any spying magicians. It was hard to imagine any of the remaining magic-users bothering to spy on Lord Robin and his mercenary company, but it never hu
rt to take precautions. Besides, Alden had visited them. If someone knew who he was, they might pay more attention to the company.
“Done,” she said. “The room is as private as I can make it.”
“Very good,” Lord Robin said. He strode to the end of the table and sat down. “We have a new contract. Crown Prince Reginald is building an army – and we’re invited.”
A rustle of excitement ran around the table. Isabella looked from face to face, noting who seemed pleased and who seemed concerned. A contract from the Crown Prince would be sure to pay well – aristocrats knew better than to try to cheat their mercenaries – but being part of a larger force would cause problems. Sharing out the loot would be harder if there were more grasping hands. And the Crown Prince would probably count his mercenaries as expendable…
Lord Robin ran through the same explanation she’d heard from Alden, although with a few new details. The Crown Prince, it seemed, was building a vast army. There was at least a vague possibility that the prince intended to wage war on his father, rather than the Summer Isle. But he’d also put out a call for shipping as well as mercenaries, inviting sailors to join his invasion force. It certainly looked as though he intended to cross the channel as soon as possible. The longer he delayed, the harder it would be to unseat King Rufus and claim his kingdom.
“We will be serving as scouts and special operatives,” Lord Robin finished. “On one hand, we’ll be paid very well; on the other, we’ll be carrying out some very dangerous missions.”
He smiled, rather thinly. “If any of you want to back out now, say so.”
Isabella shrugged to herself. Alden had made it clear that something was happening on the Summer Isle. She had to go there. The others ... she smiled, inwardly, at the flurry of chatter. Lord Robin’s core group – seven mercenaries, including herself – would probably follow wherever he led. It was a small band, but they’d worked together for months. A larger force would be harder to control.
The Promised Lie Page 5