“Yes, sir.”
They listened to the rest, frowning but saying nothing about the letter from the Magus, then sat back. The dragon and wolf looked at each other, then at me, dropping their muzzles into the same tongue-lolling, teeth-baring grins. The dragon picked up a teacup in his hand and took a sip. The wolf watched me for a moment, then gave a knowing look. “You’re seeing our, uh, other selves, aren’t you, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your hand is glowing a bit.”
I glanced down into my palm.
“Never mind all that.” Suiden placed his teacup down. “Tell me, Rabbit, are you aware of what the garrison at Freston is?”
“It’s where the army dumps all its—screw-ups, sir.”
“Not just any screw-up, Lieutenant,” Javes said. “But officers who, because of their connections, are allowed to retain their commission. Like Groskin who calls a doyen uncle. Or Slevoic, who’s related to both the Commander of the Royal Garrison and Lord Gherat.” Javes’ mouth pulled down. “Which is why he’s been able to get away with so much. It was considered a miracle that he was even sent to Freston.”
“Politics,” I said. “Uhm, sir.”
“Very much so,” Suiden said, “as Freston is also where the army isolates anyone that they’re not sure of but want to keep an eye on, like me, the nephew of the Amir of Tural.”
“Or me, the son of a very wealthy merchant who has strong ties to the Qarant,” Javes said.
Remembering the looks of recognition Javes received last night, I wondered just how wealthy his da was and how strong his ties were to the Qarant.
“Or you, Rabbit.” Suiden looked at me. “Directly related to two of the most powerful Houses in Iversterre. But brought up in the Border.”
“It didn’t matter what was said about you when we were in Freston, as we were so far away from anything vital that no one cared.” Javes said. “However, now we’re in the Royal City, and between Groskin’s hysterics and Slevoic’s machinations—” The captain broke off as he shrugged.
“But with Slevoic being on report, what he says shouldn’t matter,” I said.
Suiden placed his teacup down and rubbed his face with his hands. “Commander Loel has determined that the lieutenant acted in self-defense.”
“What?” I stared at the captains, my stomach suddenly tight. “A review board wasn’t held. Sirs.”
“A commander has the power of summary judgment over all who report to him,” Javes said. “We were put under Loel’s command when we arrived in Iversly.”
“He has it even over his kin?” I asked, the tightness creeping around to my spine.
“Yes,” Javes said. “Welcome to the army, Rabbit.”
“I’ve sent a protest to the Lord Commander,” Suiden said, taking his hands from his face. “But until he renders a decision, Slevoic is returned to the unit.”
I sat still, stunned.
“And now those who questioned having someone from the Border in the army all along are not only demanding your discharge, but also wondering out loud whether you should be banished from Iversterre,” Suiden continued. “It hasn’t helped that neither Chause nor Flavan claimed you until last night”—his look turned back into a glare—”nor that you slammed that major in the Royal Garrison’s mess, however annoying he may have been.”
“Just so,” Javes said. “But with the king rebinding you to your oaths and offices, those mouths are stopped and their teeth drawn.” He smiled as he got up. “I’d give just about anything to be a fly on the wall right now in Lunkhead’s office—” He broke off as he realized what he had called the garrison commander in front of me, and cast a look at Suiden.
Suiden’s voice was mild. “So would I. Why don’t you get Trooper Jeffen?” He looked at me. “Until this is all settled, Jeffen is permanently assigned to you, to prevent any untoward incidents.”
Javes went to the door and opened it, shouting for Jeff.
A faint wince crossed Suiden’s face as he poured more tea.
“Nothing’s going to happen to Groskin either for blabbing, is it, sir?” I asked.
Suiden set his teapot down. “No. At least, not now.” He glanced at Javes as he came back into the room. “Rabbit just asked if Groskin would be disciplined.”
Javes sighed as he sat behind his desk. “Factions, Rabbit. Groskin is protected by strong church interests. Arch-doyen Obruesk has already written letters to everyone and their mother stating how he is ‘very uneasy about soldiers being subjected to magical influences.’ ”
Suiden nodded. “And Commander Loel has informed me that, as far as he was concerned, Groskin did not disobey a direct order but instead brought a dangerous situation to the attention of the appropriate people.” The captain’s eyes gleamed hard. “That too I’ve taken to the Lord Commander.”
I studied the rune on my palm. “Why, sirs?”
“Why is Groskin acting this way?” Suiden asked.
I nodded.
“The lieutenant was assigned to Veldecke before he came to Freston, and had some things happen there that he still hasn’t reconciled himself to,” Suiden replied.
I frowned, feeling like a pawn in a game where I didn’t know the rules. It gave me no comfort that Slevoic’s faction was strong enough to challenge the king.
“No, not challenge, Rabbit,” Suiden said. “At least, not this group. It’s a jockeying for position. A fight for the king’s ear, his favor, to stand at his right hand.”
The power behind the throne drama.
“Exactly,” Suiden replied.
“I wish you’d both stop that,” Javes said, looking at Suiden, then me. “I feel like a stepchild.”
“Rabbit thought that Lord Gherat Dru was a rival for the throne,” Suiden said.
“Good grief, no.” Javes’ eyes turned wolf yellow. “That would reave the kingdom apart and Gherat knows it. Besides, he doesn’t have near enough lines to the House of Iver.” He sighed again. “No, he’s a childhood friend run amok—Jusson and he were fostered together, and Gherat milks that for all it’s worth.” I blinked, thinking of the middle-aged Lord Treasurer and the king who looked only as old as me being childhood friends, and how no one seemed to notice how the king hadn’t aged. Or at least said anything about it.
“They attribute it to clean living and good blood,” Suiden said.
Javes thumped his desk. “Stop that. What are you saying now?” I opened my mouth to answer him but just then the door opened, and Jeff entered the room carrying a large silver tray piled high with white envelopes.
Suiden put down his cup, frowning. “What’s that?”
“Lieutenant Lord Rabbit’s mail, sir. It’s been arriving all morning.” Jeff placed the tray in front of the captain and then stood at attention. Javes joined him, staring down at the small mountain, as I rose from my chair and also approached Suiden’s desk.
Javes had been right. A king’s favor did do wonders for one’s social life. I picked up an envelope and pulled out a gilt-edged invitation to a dinner to be held that night. I laid it down and picked up another; it was an invitation to a luncheon—“What’s ‘alfresco’?”
“Outdoors,” Javes said, reading over my shoulder.
“Oh, a picnic, then.” I laid that one down and next read invitations to a ball, two soirees, three routs, another ball, a couple of boating expeditions, several afternoon teas, musicales, masques, more dinners—I gasped and dropped the invitation I’d just opened. Javes picked it up.
“ ‘Lord Kaspero and Lady Mael of Surask beg the pleasure of your presence at the presentation of their daughter, Nestae eso Surask.’ Oh, I say, Rabbit. Your very first coming out ball. How exciting.” A feeling of being hunted stole between my shoulder blades.
Suiden, still frowning, also stared at the mail. “How in the world are we going to sort through this? I’ve been away too long and have no idea who we should embrace and who we should avoid like the pox.” Javes waved the debutante invitation. �
��And all those matchmaking mamas circling like sharks smelling blood in the water.” He did his silly ass smile. “Can you dance, my lord?”
The hair on the back of my neck rose as I thought of trying to maneuver through some complicated step while making small talk with a powdered, jeweled and coifed debutante with her mother looking on, planning the demise of my bachelorhood. “No, sir!” My palm burned and I added, “Except for the Festival dances, sir!”
“Stop scaring him,” Suiden said, “and help me think of a way to sort through this mess.”
“What about the king, sir?” Jeff asked.
We turned and looked at him, and his face flushed.
“The king, trooper?” Suiden asked.
“Couldn’t you ask for his advice? I mean, as the king calls Rabbit cousin and all—” We continued to stare as he trailed off.
“What have you heard, Jeff?” Javes asked, his voice soft.
“It’s in the mess, sir. How the king welcomed Rabbit home and then spent over an hour with him, and how he knows all about the mark on Rabbit’s hand, sir.” Jeff rightly interpreted the look on both captains’ faces. “I didn’t tell them, sirs. In fact, I didn’t even know that the king knew.” He did his own frown. “Rabbit never tells me anything.”
The two captains were silent. “You know,” Suiden finally said, “if the army collected intelligence this well all the time, we’d never lose a battle.”
“Well, I’ll be f—a fool,” I said. “The troopers were toadying me.”
“And I bet you just sucked it up, milord,” Jeff muttered.
“Oh, sod you and your horse—”
“That is enough,” Suiden said as Javes looked intently out the window, his mouth twitching. “I’m not in the mood for nursery quarrels. Keep it up and I’ll assign both of you to Groomer Hedley when we return to Freston. Indefinitely.” Suiden stood up and another faint wince crossed his face. “However, you did make an excellent suggestion, Jeffen. We will ask King Jusson for help and hopefully he’ll send someone who can guide us through all this—”
A soldier tapped on the open door. In his hands was a silver tray piled high with white envelopes. “I’m sorry, sirs, but this was just delivered.”
Chapter Thirty-three
With Suiden’s threat hanging over our heads, Jeff and I once more declared a trace and sat out in the courtyard (after checking for spiders) on my favorite bench under the pomegranate tree. Springtime was a soft lover in Freston, stealing over the mountains with a gentle touch. In Iversly it was a riot with mobs and looting, and the courtyard droned as the birds fought the bees over the flower petals. I watched the skirmishes as Jeff told me how Groskin stood like an old-fashioned revivalist in the troopers’ mess, preaching doom and gloom—and with Slevoic behind the lieutenant the whole time, nodding, his blue eyes gleaming.
“Groskin said that the cat had bespelled you and now both of you were turning everyone into beasts, and that the Border will soon swoop down and enslave everyone until we all forget that we were once human,” Jeff said.
“That’s stupid, Jeff. The Border has already proved that it doesn’t need to turn us into anything in order to wipe us out.” Several bright butterflies fluttered by our bench to join the flower melee, and one landed on my knee. Its wings slowly folded and unfolded.
“Well, most of the southies thought it stupid too—talking cat or no, it’s all still a bunch of children’s stories,” Jeff replied, looking out over the courtyard. “And most everybody had a hard time seeing you, the peacock o’ the mountain, as evil incarnate.” He propped a knee up and rested his arm on it, leaning against the back of the bench. “Besides, I’ve been around both you and the ambassador the most, and nothing’s happened to me.” He shrugged. “Then the news hit this morning and everyone thought who cares—the king calls you cousin.”
“Everyone? Or most everyone?” I asked, remembering the grumbles and sidelong glances at me during our soggy trek out of the mountains into Gresh.
“Anyone that matters,” Jeff said. He saw my look and shrugged. “Royal favor covers a heap of sins, Rabbit.” I didn’t reply, placing my hand gently against the butterfly’s front legs, and it stepped onto my palm. It slowly flapped its wings as it moved across the rune and climbed to a finger.
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Jeff asked after a moment. “As you told the captains, we are—what you called it—translated. Changed from human into the magical.”
“Yes.” I turned my hand so that the butterfly moved to the back of my finger and I held it up to eye level. “It’s true, and you know it.” I gave him a sideways glance. “Why didn’t you back Groskin?”
The butterfly beat its wings, fanning my face.
Jeff shrugged, his eyes angry. “Because I have no desire to put myself in Slevoic’s tender care no matter what is swooping down on me.” He saw my look and his mouth twisted. “The Vicious did that cheroot thing in another fight. Put it right in the trooper’s eye, blinded him. Then he told the poor sod that if Ebner ever found out, his sisters would be next—and he described them both, saying their names.” I blinked, realizing which trooper Jeff was talking about. I’d been told he’d gotten drunk and fell into the fire. He had been discharged from the army as unfit for duty and now worked in the stables of an inn as a groomer, knee-deep in horse muck.
“You’re a little odd sometimes,” Jeff said, “and you keep too many damn secrets from your mates.”
“I’m not odd—” I began as a second butterfly landed on my wrist.
Jeff spoke over me. “But you don’t smile while you’re describing the injuries your men sustained while out on patrol with you.” His mouth twisted again. “He drools at the thought of getting you alone, Rabbit.”
I knew.
It was silent as we watched a company of bumblebees hold a flowering bush against all comers. “So, I’m a badger?” Jeff asked after a little bit.
“Yes.”
Jeff sighed. “All the animals in the world and I get small and furry.”
“I don’t know, Jeff,” I said. “The ones around my parents’ farm were pretty impressive. Even the wolves left them alone.” Both butterflies beat their wings together and my hair blew back from my face in the draft.
“What about Ryson?” Jeff asked, and paused.
“Weasel,” we said at the same time.
“Though polecat would’ve come in a close second,” Jeff said. “Slevoic has been assigned back to the stables,” he added. “Javes is having him clean and mend all the tack.” He gave an evil smile. “And Ryson and Groskin have kitchen rota together until Suiden says otherwise. Basel got so mad when he found out that he forgot to call Suiden ‘sir’ and burnt the toast.”
My eyes got wide as my breakfast turned to lead in my stomach. “Heigh-ho, merry-go. Groskin and Ryson? Does anyone dare eat?”
As Jeff claimed that he waited for the other troopers to take the first bite, both butterflies flew off and the wind of their flight rushed past me, blowing through the tree, swaying branches and rustling leaves. I leaned back against the bench and crossed my ankles. And uncrossed them in a hurry as a spider was shaken out of the pomegranate tree, landing near my feet. He was pale and elongated as opposed to his more brightly hued, muscular brethren, and we watched as he scurried off, making sure that he didn’t turn back towards us.
Losing the spider in the shadow of the fountain, I eased back on the bench, again thrusting my feet out in front of me. After seriously contemplating my boots, I sighed. “All right, maybe you’re right.”
Jeff looked at me and waited.
“Maybe I do keep too many secrets. It’s just that—” I tried to smile. It didn’t work. “I left the Border running from something that scared me spitless, Jeff.”
“What? You being a mage?”
“Not a mage. Not yet. Not even close. An apprentice.” I watched the fountain spray sparkle in the sunlight. “My master—I could feel his lust—” I broke off as Jeff shifted on the bench an
d I scowled at him. “No, not that.”
“Oh,” muttered Jeff. “Sorry.”
“It was as if he was starving and I was supper. It scared me,” I repeated. “Hell, it scared me.” I took another breath and shrugged. “So I ran away and came here, hoping no one would find me.”
“But they did,” Jeff pointed out.
“Yeah,” I said. “They did.”
“How did we get lost, Rabbit?” Jeff asked after a moment.
“I don’t know,” I said. I saw his side glance. “I’ve asked Laurel again and again, and he denies having anything to do with it.” I shrugged. “I believe him.” At least about that.
“Your hand is glowing,” Jeff said.
I looked down and saw the rune bright in the tree’s shade. I held my palm up and Jeff took and angled my hand so that the sun fell directly on it. “What does it say?” he asked. He moved my hand back into the shade so the rune stood out more and bent over it. Another butterfly flew by, the draft of its passing as strong as the wake from Dragoness Moraina’s wings. It circled back and landed on my shoulder and I felt the weight of it anchor me to the earth even as the wind whispered to me the secret of flight.
“Truth,” I said, as Jeff reached out a finger to the bright lines.
“What the bloody hell are you doing? Get away from him!” Jeff jumped up as Groskin came storming out of the officers’ mess. The butterfly beat its wings once, twice, and I felt them brushing against my cheek. It then took off, a speck of color against the blue sky.
“Groskin!” Suiden emerged from the captains’ office. Groskin snapped to attention. “Trooper Jeffen is exactly where he’s supposed to be. You are not. Return to your post.” Groskin, without meeting my eyes, spun around and marched back into the house.
Suiden stood a moment, grimacing in the bright sunlight. He men gave it up as a bad job and turned to go back into his office. “Come inside.” We followed Suiden inside and in the relative dark of the room, I made out someone standing next to the captain.
“This is Lord Esclaur ibn Dhawn e Jas, Lieutenant. The king has sent him to help with your mail.” Figuring that I must be the only lieutenant in the Royal Army with a social secretary, I bowed. As I came back up for air, my eyes adjusted to the dimness and I recognized him as me lordling who made the crack about squirrels. Remembering Lord Gherat escorting me, I realized that my royal cousin had a twisted sense of humor.
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