“Thank you, your Majesty,” the Magistrix said. “I come before you as voice of the united will of the Masters and Magisters of the Scholia. Our reputation as the premier educational institution in Tremontane has guaranteed that those serving as Royal Librarians are far more skilled than any other possible candidates. In fact, the Scholia provides an unparalleled education to anyone in Tremontane regardless of rank. In turn, those Masters provide exceptional service to the entire country. We fear the Crown’s usurpation of the Scholia’s longstanding association with the Royal Library may be seen as a vote of no confidence in the Scholia itself. We request the Crown remedy this imbalance by creating an endowment that will allow the Scholia to continue its work without fear of its reputation being damaged.”
Zara concentrated her attention on the Magistrix. “If I understand your argument,” she said, “you are asking for an endowment so the Scholia’s reputation may remain intact now that the Royal Library is no longer under your purview.”
“We are willing to stipulate the Crown’s authority over the Library as a sign of good faith,” said the Magistrix.
“We get the Library, you get your endowment,” said Zara.
“I would not put it in those terms. We would receive the endowment as a sign of respect for our valuable work.”
“And what of your responsibility to the Crown? We provide security, and you provide…?”
“Scholia-educated Masters to serve in every area of government, naturally. The security of knowing the quality of those serving you.”
“I was speaking more of accountability,” said Zara. “Your request seems not only for money, but for autonomy as well. Would that not be a great amount of power for a single institution?”
“Do you suggest we would not be honorable in exercising that power?”
“I suggest that as a recipient of government funds, the Scholia ought also to be under government oversight.”
The Magistrix sat up, looking shocked. “An educational institution must have a free and open exchange of ideas! The oversight of any outside entity must surely degenerate into suppression. Our reputation would be sullied.”
“And what of financial oversight? Is the Crown to have no say in Scholia matters?”
“I fail to see why the Crown would want a say in Scholia matters. Much of what we do is impenetrable to outsiders, who do not understand our peculiar needs.”
“Then, to clarify: you want the Crown to provide you with an endowment that will leave you free to pursue educational goals.”
“That is precisely correct, your Majesty.”
Zara nodded, slowly. “And how will this endowment offset our, as you put it, usurpation of the Royal Library? Since you have been so assiduous in attempting to reclaim it?”
“We are convinced the Royal Library is too valuable to remain in inexperienced hands. We have done everything in our power to convince the Countess of Waxwold of the justice of this. Since she remains obdurate, and since your Majesty will not remove her from office, we conclude that the Crown disagrees with our position and must therefore bow to your wishes. This capitulation makes us seem weak, which lessens the public trust in us. We simply ask that you balance the scales.”
“By giving you money.”
“By allowing us to act without the need for constant fundraising. By allowing us our freedom.”
Zara nodded again. “I invite my councilors to ask the Magistrix any questions they might wish to clarify their understanding of the situation.”
Alison wanted to ask the Magistrix what she thought of Gowan’s attacks, but there was no point. She still didn’t know what to do about him. Maybe she wasn’t devious enough.
Clara Unwin was speaking. “—to the Crown if we comply with your wishes? Who is to determine how much the endowment would have to be for the Scholia to support itself on its interest?”
“Our bursars have calculated that amount and are willing to work with the Crown to decide on the final disposition of funds.”
“And if we disagree?”
“I think it won’t come to that, if we are reasonable individuals.”
Alison could almost hear Unwin thinking that wasn’t very likely, but the councilor kept her tongue.
Roger Lestrange stepped forward. “Magistrix, perhaps you could explain the uses to which the endowment would be put.”
“Of course. It would pay for instructor salaries, maintaining the physical facilities to keep them up to date, creating educational materials, and a few other things necessary to continue the Scholia’s mission of excellence in education. It would also allow us to fund scholarships for deserving students, something we have not been able to do to date.”
“Thank you.” Lestrange resumed his place. Alison’s stomach sank. Now everyone had a picture of the Scholia as some benevolent institution that even tried to give poor people an education. How could Zara allow Lestrange to exercise such influence over the Council?
Zara rose, inviting everyone to do the same, and said, “Thank you for your time, Magistrix. We will deliberate now and return with an answer for you within the hour. You may wait here.”
Alison had to stop herself from smiling. There were no chairs in the audience chamber aside from the throne. She ought to feel sorry for the Magistrix, leaning on her cane, but she remembered Trevers, and her terror while she crouched behind that carriage, and felt no compassion at all.
Alison followed Anthony and the other councilors into the Council chamber, feeling Zara’s presence at her back like a cold pressure down her spine. The councilors took their seats, Alison feeling terribly conspicuous sitting next to Anthony in their matching attire. Zara remained standing. She said, “If anyone has any final remarks before we vote, now is the time to share them.”
Clara Unwin stood immediately and said, “I wish to remind you all once more of the precarious financial position this endowment would put the country in. We have no resources to afford such an expenditure. The Scholia’s goals may be laudable, but we are in no position to further them. Please consider this when you cast your vote.”
She sat down, and Lestrange was standing almost before Unwin’s bottom touched her seat. “The Scholia has served Tremontane for over a century. Its Masters are well respected and serve in all areas of government and business. It aims to educate everyone who chooses to attend and will use this endowment to provide scholarships for those who cannot afford tuition. This endowment not only helps the Scholia in its goals, but serves as a gesture of thanks for everything it has done for us over the years.”
He sat down. No one else seemed inclined to stand. Zara gestured to her aide, who went around the room, handing each councilor the red and white wooden marbles. “The white balls are a ‘yes’ vote in favor of funding the endowment, the red balls ‘no’ in opposition. Voting will proceed by seniority. I will cast the final vote,” Zara said.
Matthew Godwinson got heavily to his feet and went to the vase. The ball hit the bottom of the vase and bounced a few times, making a series of wooden tapping noises. As soon as Godwinson sat down, Lestrange rose and repeated the process. One by one, the councilors stood to cast their votes, until it was Alison’s turn. She suddenly had the irrational fear that she would accidentally put the wrong ball into the vase, and had to peek at it before dropping it in. Zara was up before Alison had even seated herself. She must have thrown the ball rather than dropping it, because the sound it made was louder than the others and seemed to echo.
Zara returned to her seat and lowered herself into it gracefully. “Has anyone not cast a vote?” No one moved. “Please break the vase and count the votes.”
Alison unclenched her fists, which were sweating. She didn’t know if she was more nervous about her own fate or that of the kingdom. The aides struck the vase, which broke with a dull musical tone. She was afraid to watch, afraid to look at anyone else for fear of somehow influencing the results. She heard the sound of wood clicking against wood, which stopped, then repeated it
self. Her heart was pounding.
“Your Majesty, we have a resolution. In the matter of funding an endowment for the Scholia, the vote is seven in favor, six in opposition.”
Alison held her breath. The alternative was making the same incredulous noise Clara Unwin was on the other side of the table. Alison looked to Clara’s left and saw Albert Fisher’s face go blank. It couldn’t be. Zara couldn’t have lost. Alison knew she was blotchy and didn’t care. Say farewell to the Library, foolish girl.
“Thank you for your service,” Zara said, sounding very far away thanks to the roaring in Alison’s ears. “Ladies and gentlemen of the council, we have a decision. If you will join me in the hall, we will present our resolution to the Magistrix immediately.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Magistrix and her entourage stood in the same positions they had been when the Council left them. The Magistrix might have been leaning a little more heavily on her cane, but with her legs concealed by her robe it was impossible to tell. What was obvious to Alison as she took her place on the dais was the subtle change in the woman’s features that said she knew the vote had gone in her favor. Probably Lestrange had given her some indication. The Queen had lost, the Magistrix would get her endowment, and Lestrange’s power in the Council would increase, forcing Zara to work even harder to maintain control. Alison felt herself beyond crying. This was too great a disaster for tears. It was the kind of disaster that demanded shouting and hitting things and raging defiance at the world. Alison would have to settle for showing the Magistrix a cool, unafraid visage. She had already lost the Library; she would not lose her composure as well.
“Magistrix, the Council has reached a decision,” Zara said, her voice as cool as Alison hoped her face was. “We will fund an endowment for the Scholia as you have requested.”
The Magistrix didn’t even try to conceal her triumph. “Thank you, your Majesty, and my thanks to the Council as well,” she said. “I assure you the Scholia will use this endowment to serve Tremontane.”
“As you are the voice of the will of the Scholia, that assurance carries extra weight,” Zara said. “I hope—Who is opening that door? Major Casson, why have you intruded on these proceedings?”
The double doors at the back of the room had opened silently, and Major Casson stood in the opening, his bearing erect and proper. There was a swishing sound as the members of the Magistrix’s party turned to look at him. “I beg your pardon, your Majesty,” he said, “but there has been a development I believed should be brought to your immediate attention.”
“I fail to see what is so important that you felt the need to interrupt this meeting,” Zara said, but there was a note in her voice that told Alison with utter certainty that Zara knew exactly what Major Casson was doing there. Her pulse raced. Something important was about to happen, and Alison felt unexpected hope rise up inside her.
Major Casson stepped fully into the room and pulled the door open a little wider. Two soldiers entered, followed by three men whose hands were bound to a rope linking them together. Alison didn’t recognize any of them at first, as they all had the look of men who’d spent some time in a cell, but a second glance revealed, to her shock, that the third man was Arnold Gowan. The three men were followed by another soldier and a tall, lovely woman who was not bound in any way. Alison heard Anthony, standing beside her, take a single horrified breath.
“Your Majesty instructed me to investigate the attacks on the Library and the Royal Librarian,” Major Casson said. “We were finally able to track down the man who killed Lieutenant Elise Garan and attempted to murder the Countess of Waxwold.” His voice was strained; there was fury there just under the surface. “He led us to his co-conspirator, who admitted to having orchestrated the attack that left apprentice Trevers Stofford nearly dead. Both men named Arnold Gowan as the one who hired them to commit these crimes.”
The Magistrix drew in a gasp. “Your Majesty, I am shocked to learn of Master Gowan’s treachery! I assure you I had no knowledge—”
“No knowledge, Magistrix?” Gowan said. “Your Majesty, I would like to testify in court that Margaret Bindle instructed me to do whatever it took to hound the Countess of Waxwold out of the Royal Library.”
“That is a serious allegation. Magistrix, how do you respond?” Zara said.
“I—I repeat, I’m shocked Master Gowan could believe I would want—”
“Then you deny you earlier said you have done everything in your power to convince the Countess that she should resign her position?”
“No, but of course I spoke of logic, reason, not vicious attacks! Master Gowan must have misunderstood me.”
“There was no misunderstanding, your Majesty,” Gowan said. “She specifically told me to make the Countess suffer and that it did not matter in what condition she left the Library.”
His matter of fact recounting of the Magistrix’s instructions left Alison feeling a little faint. She breathed deeply and focused all her attention on Gowan, glaring at him as if she could burn a hole through his chest. He didn’t look at her; he was looking at the Queen, whose expression Alison couldn’t see.
“I categorically deny these accusations,” the Magistrix said. “Master Gowan has clearly been coerced; his physical condition is testimony of that. Such a testimony will not stand at trial.”
“My physical condition, as you call it, has nothing to do with my testimony,” Gowan said. “I wasn’t your only stooge, Margaret, and I don’t intend for you to drag me down with you when you’re convicted. And you,” he added, addressing the assembled Masters, “I suggest you decide which side you’re on before it’s decided for you.”
The Masters began muttering among themselves, glancing around as if hoping to gauge where their support lay. Major Casson said, “Your Majesty, on that other matter you asked me to investigate, well….” He turned to the woman who was still standing in the doorway, shifting her weight from side to side, her eyes darting in all directions. She startled, took half a step forward, then clasped her hands in front of herself and bowed her head. “You should speak now,” Major Casson said, his voice barely reaching Alison’s ears.
The woman raised her head and looked directly at the Queen. “Your Majesty,” she began, too quietly, cleared her throat and in a louder voice said, “Your Majesty, that woman—” she pointed at the Magistrix—“she came to me and said she would pay me to claim Tony—his Highness was my Sophy’s father, and that he’d abandoned her when she was a baby. I didn’t know she was the Magistrix. I just…Tony, I’m so sorry, when they started talking about how awful you were I knew I’d done wrong but I didn’t know how to stop it. It was just…it would have meant a better life for me and Sophy. I’m sorry.”
Alison glanced at Anthony, whose jaw was rigid and whose fists were clenched tight. “You could have come to me if you needed help, Lydia,” he said. “You didn’t need to lie to get it.”
Tears rolled down Lydia’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“Your Majesty cannot possibly listen to these baseless accusations!” the Magistrix said.
“You lied to me!” Lydia shouted. “You said it would make things better for my little girl. This isn’t what I wanted!”
“Magistrix, I find it increasingly difficult to believe these accusations are baseless,” Zara said. “I believe this warrants further investigation. Major Casson, please take Margaret Bindle into custody. Nathaniel,” she said to her aide, “please take the names of these Masters and Magisters. We will need to investigate them as well.”
“You dare!” the Magistrix said as Major Casson beckoned to two of his guards to take hold of her. “You think the Masters of this kingdom will endure this insult! One word from me, your Majesty, one word and every Master in any position of power will walk away from his or her post. You think your government will survive it? You will bring Tremontane to its knees!”
Zara leaned forward a little. “Nathaniel, take a note,” she said. “Margaret B
indle is to be tried for treason as well.”
The Magistrix’s mouth dropped open. “You—”
“Do not try my patience further,” Zara said, her voice as cold as her eyes must surely be. “You have attempted to manipulate my government through violence and blackmail and now you have threatened me. My response is this: any Master who leaves his or her position for any reason in the next six months will be tried for treason by your side. As you have explicitly represented yourself as the united voice of the Scholia, I must conclude that the Scholia as a whole stands behind your actions. You will therefore stand trial on behalf of the Scholia, and if you are convicted, my sentence as representative of the Crown will be to divest the Scholia of all monies it receives from the government of Tremontane.” Zara leaned back on her throne. “Major Casson, please find the Magistrix a comfortable cell. Take these men and this woman into custody as well pending trial.”
Lydia gasped and struggled as a soldier took her arm. “Zara, don’t,” Anthony said.
Zara turned on her throne to look at him. “Falsely accusing someone of failing to provide a family bond is a serious crime,” she said. “She knew what she was doing when she accepted Miss Bindle’s offer.”
Anthony stepped down from the dais and stood facing Zara. “She made a stupid mistake,” he said, “and it’s about to cost her her future. She regrets that more than she can say.”
“She nearly cost you your future, Anthony.” Zara’s voice was quiet, intimate, as if she and Anthony were the only people in the room.
“Then I’m the one who can forgive her,” he said. “Please, Zara. Just let her go home.”
Zara was silent for a long moment. “Release her,” she finally said. “Miss Brown, go home to your child.”
Lydia, her face streaked with tears, curtsied to the Queen. She looked once at Anthony, who continued to face Zara, then turned and left without saying anything.
Servant of the Crown (The Crown of Tremontane Book 1) Page 36