“What do you know about Chaos magic?” Hamneth asked. He’d been quiet for a long time, which was unusual for him. The other three men spun to face the medic.
“What do you know?” Traren asked.
“I would need more ale to talk about it.”
“I’ll get it, Doc.” Airnon grabbed Hamneth’s tankard and walked toward the bar.
Just then, Adindira and Mariana came over to them. “Orlando, I’m taking your guest back to my house. She apparently left home with one dress to her name, and that one is a mess. I think I have a few that will fit her until the dressmaker can finish the ones she ordered.”
“She ordered some dresses?” Orlando stared at his sister and then at Mariana, who was smiling brightly.
“Well, she can’t walk around the village every day wearing this horrid green thing. It’s practically ruined.”
“It’s ruined?” He stared at the dress. Besides a few leftover stains from where the dirt hadn’t all washed off, he didn’t see anything so terrible about it. True, it did little to bring out her eyes or make her stand out, but that didn’t seem any reason to call it horrid.
“Oh, Lando, it’s torn and stained. While the fabric is nicer than I can afford, she can’t spend every day in a ruined dress.” Dira spoke like she was talking to one of her children. Why did a discussion of clothing always make Orlando feel like the village idiot?
Mariana blushed. “The other dresses I brought with me are more suited for a palace ball. I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself by wearing one of them.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mariana,” Adindira said. “Orlando, I’m not asking your permission. I’m only telling you this so you wouldn’t worry when you can’t find her. I’ll get her cleaned up, too, since I’m sure you didn’t offer her a bath or anything.”
He hadn’t even thought about it, and he sighed. “I didn’t. I’m sorry, Mariana. Please, enjoy your time with my sister.”
“It’s not a party. You need to learn a little bit more about women.” Adindira took Mariana’s arm and led her away from the men.
“Why do I always seem to say the wrong thing around Dira?” he muttered as he watched them disappear into the market day crowd.
“Because your sister is part shrew.” Traren raised his tankard in her direction and then took a drink. “She’s also hurting over her husband’s capture. We’ve got to get him out of there before Jonathan has him executed, and your sister turns on all of us.”
Airnon returned with ale for himself and Hamneth. “Out with it, Doc.”
“When I was in the troops,” Hamneth said after he took a long, fortifying swig of the ale, “I was called on to treat Pir Roger, Margrave of Dominic from some province to the North. He was a Chaos Sensitive and leader of the Eight Hundred and Fourth Royal Legion.”
“Wait, the Doomed Eight Oh Four?” Airnon asked. “That’s just a legend. I heard stories of it when I was in. None of the guys in my company believed it was true.”
Hamneth nodded. “Whatever you heard, the truth is probably worse. Pir Roger knew what he was, and most of the time he had control of it. His men’s swords were sharper and their aim truer than any other company. They could fight longer and required less rations. All because of his Abilities. Chaos Sensitives can enhance or dampen any other ability they are in the proximity of. It is said they can even enhance nonmagical abilities in Insensitives.”
“Sounds like a formidable opponent,” Traren said. “I would think the King would want to keep Mariana in his control.”
“Yes,” Orlando said, “but she doesn’t know what she can do. That’s what I don’t understand. He wants to marry her to the Sahdeer of Valentine. He’s a very weak Sensitive.”
“The King knows what she is, and regardless of how we feel about him, he’s not a stupid man.” Hamneth shook his head. “He kept her ignorant of her abilities because even without being bonded, she could force him off the throne. If she marries Valentine, she’ll never know what she can do, and without practice, her abilities would eventually weaken. At that point, she would no longer be a threat to the King.”
“That’s all well and good,” Airnon said. “Doesn’t explain how she could be dangerous for us. Except for Lando, none of us have Abilities. She can’t enhance them.”
“I hadn’t finished my story,” the medic said. “Pir Roger became ill. He fell into a deep fever and became delirious. Suddenly, his magic went wild. He wasn’t in control anymore. Weapons began to fly around on their own. Fires started spontaneously.”
He took another long swig of his ale. Orlando watched his face and knew the memories had to be painful.
“Men were killed in their sleep by their own swords,” Hamneth said. “That is, if they weren’t burned to death when their tents went up in flames. Only a handful of us escaped by running toward the river, away from the camp.”
Hamneth swallowed, and his eyes glinted with unshed tears. “When Pir Roger’s fever broke, and he saw what had happened, he took his own life in despair.” He shook his head. “If she doesn’t know what she is, and something happens, she won’t know how to control it.”
“I knew the King was conniving, but to misuse his own daughter this way…” Orlando shook his head. “It goes beyond imagining.”
The four men were silent as they stared at their drinks, each one lost in his own thoughts. After a few moments, Airnon spoke up.
“We have to stop the wedding. You know the King won’t just let her get out of it just because she ran away. He’ll find her, and he’ll force her to marry that man. If she is as strong as Hamneth says, she should be on the throne, not Jonathan.”
Orlando made a decision. “I have an idea. It sounded crazy last night…well, it still sounds crazy, but I think it’ll work, and it’ll give us an advantage over the King.”
They watched him, waiting.
He prayed he was doing the right thing. “One of us could marry her.”
****
The dressmaker’s shop sat at the corner of the two main streets of Talla. Mariana had never been here, as Beatrice, the owner of the shop, always came to the palace when the royal family arrived.
This year, however, she hadn’t been invited due to the attack on the caravan. The King hadn’t wanted anyone from the village in the palace unless they were of noble blood.
Mariana stopped outside the door to the shop. “Maybe I shouldn’t go in. She might tell the King’s Guard I’m here.”
Adindira moved so her body was between the Progenna and the windows to the store. “Beatrice is a friend of…mine and Orlando’s. She does business with the royal family and the nobility, as do many of the shop owners in town, but she doesn’t always agree with the King’s…policies. She won’t give you away if we ask her not to.”
“It sounds like you know her pretty well.”
“I do. Bea and I were children together. She always liked making clothes when she could get fabric. We learned how to sew together, but I never liked it as much as she did. Fortunately, she gives me a discount so I don’t have to make my own dresses.”
Now Mariana hugged her. “I like knowing all these years, we’ve been getting our clothes from the same dressmaker.”
“I probably don’t buy the same kinds of dresses you do,” Adindira said when the two women entered the shop. “Nor, I’m sure, do I buy as many.”
Mariana felt judged, and she lifted her chin. “I don’t buy many when I come here. Last year, Mother only allowed me to buy five dresses and that included the gown I wore to my own Presentation Ball.”
“Only five?” Adindira gasped and put her hand over her mouth. “Mariana, how could you stand it?”
The Progenna wrinkled her forehead, unable to tell if her new friend was serious. After a moment, Adindira shook her head and moved away.
“I don’t even have five dresses,” she said as she walked. “The last time I was in here, it was to get one of my winter dresses altered so I could wear it another yea
r.” She fingered a folded length of gray cotton fabric that sat on a counter. “I’ve been looking at this material since Beatrice got it in. There’s only a little bit left, though. I guess it’s not to be.”
“It’s gray.” Mariana examined the cloth, trying to see what was so appealing about it.
“Gray is a good color. It doesn’t show dirt or wear as fast as some other colors, and that cotton is sturdy. I could probably wear it for several years.”
Mariana nodded, but she didn’t quite understand. She wandered around the showroom while Adindira went to the back of the shop to talk to Beatrice.
As she admired the dresses hanging on racks and bolts of fabric stacked on the shelves lining the walls, Mariana realized none of the satins, silks, and velvets she and her sisters preferred were on display. Everything here was made of simple, rougher material, in muted colors or neutrals.
Mariana loved fashion and color and had, at one time, hoped that that showed she had a Sensitivity for Color, but Kylan, the Abilities Tester, quickly disabused her of that.
“That is just a conceit by some of the lesser nobles,” Kylan had said as he poured her a glass of white pomegranate juice after her testing. She didn’t remember the testing itself, but she remembered the taste of the juice.
“They have no real Sensitivity to any of the true Elements,” he’d continued, “so they claim something that is clearly outside the realm of the tests, and those without any Abilities hold them up as knowledgeable in something as insignificant as clothing or interior design.”
“Progenna!” Beatrice’s voice brought Mariana back to the present. “I am so happy to see you alive and well.” The dressmaker embraced her, something the woman would never have dared to do in the past.
Mariana pulled back, wondering if something about her had changed to give Beatrice this level of comfort or if the Queen’s and other Princesses’ presence had been what kept the dressmaker aloof.
“Mariana left the palace with only one suitable dress,” Adindira said. “She needs something a bit simpler now.”
“Of course.” Beatrice hurried out of the room and came back with her arms full of bolts of cloth, the kind Mariana and her sisters always wore. “I just got this fabric in. This season, all the fashion leaders in Clearlea are going with jewel tones, which would be perfect for your coloring.”
Mariana started to agree, but Adindira touched her arm and said, “No. She needs to blend in with the rest of the townspeople.”
“Of course.” Beatrice stepped out of the room to speak with one of her assistants.
A girl about Mariana’s age came in. Mariana squealed when she recognized her best friend in Byspell, Natalia, the Margress of Falldell Barrens.
“Nat.” The Progenna embraced her friend. “What are you doing here?”
“I was picking out a gown for opening day of the races,” Natalia said, but she glanced in Beatrice’s direction. “I…um…should let you and Beatrice finish your business.” She hurried into the back room, but to Mariana’s surprise, she took the bolts of fabric with her.
Adindira efficiently took a bolt of brown cloth from one of the shelves and told Beatrice to have a simple dress made for Mariana. “I assume you have her measurements.”
Beatrice said she did, and Adindira headed for the door. Mariana hesitated.
“I would like to say good-bye to Nat before we go. I didn’t expect to see her.”
“She is busy,” Beatrice said. “I have her…I mean…” She glanced at Adindira then back at the Progenna. “She told me she had to go to her uncle’s estate this afternoon. Some family thing.”
Mariana scowled. She didn’t know anything about an uncle with a farm nearby, but there wasn’t any reason for the dressmaker to lie to her.
“Oh. Well, I suppose I will see her some other time.”
“Mariana, I need to get back to…get dinner started. Bea, I’m sure you understand what this situation means to my brother.”
Beatrice nodded. “Of course. Tell Orlando it is my honor.”
As Mariana followed Adindira out of the store, she furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. Why would Orlando care that she is making a dress for me?”
Adindira walked past the butcher and the candlemaker’s shop before she answered, “Beatrice just meant she is taking care of you, and you’re his guest, right?”
Mariana nodded. “I guess so.”
Something about the conversation between Beatrice and Adindira didn’t sound right, but Mariana couldn’t figure out what it was.
Chapter Twelve
“I assume you got a note from Thibault.”
Raulin regarded his brother through the filigreed gate that separated the monks from the outside world and their visitors. Gerard’s face had more wrinkles and his hair more gray than the last time they had been together, at the wedding of Royal Princess Liliana.
“I did,” Raulin said, fingering the prayer ribbons that hung from his belt in a rainbow of colors.
“What are we going to do?” Gerard wrung his hands. “Jonathan is the King.”
“And there is nothing that says he can’t continue to hold that position. Who would challenge him?”
“You could.” Gerard’s voice was loud enough that Brother Bartholomew, the monastery’s sexton, froze briefly in his work of polishing the brass statues that represented the Elements. He didn’t look over at the men, but Raulin knew he’d heard at least this last part of the conversation.
“I would remind you to keep your voice down,” he said calmly. “There are those who worship here who would think nothing of running to our brother to report we conspire against him.” He took a deep breath. “That said, you are more in a position than I to know if Jon truly is the King he should be.”
Gerard peeked around at the near-empty chapel. Besides the sexton, two women knelt in the far corner in front of a shrine to the Mother of All Elements. Raulin knew that short of screaming, he and his brother’s conversation would never carry that far.
All the grounds and building of the monastery were guarded by strong Air and Water Sensitives among the religious brothers to prevent spies from listening in on private conversations, which often included confessions to the Father Abbot or other priests. This was the main reason Gerard came to visit his brother here, rather than the other way around.
Of course, all the guarding in the world wouldn’t keep even an Insensitive from overhearing a conversation that was spoken in loud, passionate voices.
“Jonathan is not the King our Father was,” he said after a moment, turning back to look at Raulin. “He has become ruthless in his dealings with those he considers his enemies, and I believe that list is growing irrationally long.”
“That is not important to…us. Kings have always been ruthless to their enemies. It is the way of Kings. The Brotherhood needs to know if he is losing his Abilities.”
“I cannot say for sure. Certainly, when he is in public, he appears as strong as ever.” Then Gerard glanced over his shoulder again. “His Abilities do seem to have changed, however.”
Raulin’s heart began to pound. “Changed? How?”
“Maybe it’s nothing, but he rarely uses his Fire Sensitivity in official gatherings. Remember how he always made a show of lighting the candles and lamps as part of any ceremony?”
“I found that practice quite obnoxious,” Raulin said. “Forcing us to potentially sit in the dark until he could make his entrance.”
Gerard nodded furiously. “That’s just it. He doesn’t do that anymore. I went to the last opening of the advisory council, and all the lamps were shining brightly long before he arrived.”
Tilting his head to one side, thinking, Raulin said, “That may mean nothing.”
“Or it may mean his Fire Sensitivity is waning.”
A bell somewhere outside the chapel toned three times. The men stood, Raulin automatically and Gerard an instant later.
“I must leave you. It is time for our evening prayers.”
As Raulin turned, Gerard reached through the gate and grabbed his brother’s arm. The monk froze a moment before turning. No one ever touched a Brother of the Holy Elements. Even when his mother was on her deathbed, Raulin had refrained from embracing or kissing her.
“Do something,” Gerard pleaded. “You are the strong one. If he finds out…”
“Calm yourself.” Raulin stared at the hand grasping his robe until his brother removed it. “You have nothing to fear if our King is losing his powers. You may return to your home and lovely family and pretend this conversation never happened.”
“You’ll challenge him?”
“Of course not. I have taken the religious life, but someone will step up to see the Throne of the Virtuous is restored.”
“You are certain?”
Raulin sighed. “I have faith.”
****
“It’s the perfect solution to your problem.”
Orlando had finished presenting his idea to Mariana, who sat at one end of Adindira’s kitchen table. His sister sat at the other end, with him on the side.
Both women were silent, staring at him.
Finally, just as sweat began to break out on his upper lip, his sister spoke. “It’s official. You’ve lost your flipping mind.” She pushed herself back from the table and moved to the pile of clean laundry that needed to be folded.
“Why?” he asked, staring at her back. “She doesn’t want to marry the Sahdeer of Valentine, and clearly she can’t just keep running, trying to hide from her father.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Mariana said. Her hands were folded, fingers interlaced, on the tabletop and it was impossible for him to tell what she was thinking. He could reach out with his Sensitivity but, without her consent, it would be an invasion of her privacy. At this point, he couldn’t risk her anger.
“There’s nothing to say,” Adindira said. “It’s a crazy idea.”
“Not that crazy.” Her son, Rianaer, had come in from finishing up chores after dinner. While Orlando laid out his plan, Rian had cleaned up at the washtub, and now he sat at the table. “If the Progenna says she wants to marry a commoner who is an Insensitive like she is, I don’t see why her father would argue.”
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