“Name them,” Laera said.
“Mages must protect themselves from unscrupulous would-be apprentices who would, under the guise of sincerity, enter into their tutelage only to steal spells,” said Callador. “I do not for a moment suggest you would do such a thing, or even consider it, but prudence and tradition both demand a blood oath and a personal token to grant the mage security against betrayal.”
“What sort of token?” Laera asked cautiously.
“A lock of hair would do,” said Callador.
“Oh,” said Laera, fearing it might have been something worse. “I can accept that. What are the other conditions?”
“As my apprentice, you would be bound by the same oath of fealty I have sworn to my new lord for so long as I remain in his service,” Callador replied.
“You would not be required to swear again, however. The oath you would swear to me would bind you to my lord, as well.”
“I understand,” said Laera, thinking such an oath would be of no real consequence.
Callador seemed reluctant to reveal the identity of his new patron until he was sure of her intentions.
Doubtless, he wanted some assurance she would not reveal anything to Derwyn. No matter. Only foolish men gave any credence to such things as blood oaths. A little scratch upon the palm so that blood could mingle with blood and they thought it meant something. Besides, once her plans came to fruition,
whoever Callador’s new lord might be, it was he who would owe fealty to her.
“I can accept that,” she said, feigning a somber and earnest expression.
“Good,” said Callador. He tossed a sharp dagger onto her bed. “Cut off a small lock of your hair. It need not be much. This amount will do.”
He held his thumb and index finger about three inches apart.
She cut off a lock of hair, then handed it to him.
“Now, you ‘must make the cut for the blood to bind the oath,” he said.
“Your left palm, the one closer to your heart.”
She put the point of the dagger up against her palm, set her teeth, and made a small cut, just enough to allow some blood to flow. “Is that enough?”
she asked, holding it up for his inspection.
“That will do. Now, hand me back the dagger.”
She gave it back to him, and he made a cut upon his own palm. “Hold out your palm, like this,” he indicated, holding out his hand, palm up.
She did as he told her, and he placed the lock of hair upon her bleeding palm, then pressed his own palm against hers, with the lock of hair between them.
“Repeat after me,” he said. “With this token and my lifeblood, I do pledge my bond…”
“With this token and my lifeblood, I do pledge my bond . - .” she repeated, thinking this all foolishly dramatic.
and do hereby give my solemn oath as surety…”
“of support and loyalty to his designs “of trust he may repose in me with all his secrets
Of trust he may repose in me with all his secrets and obedience in all things he may ask of me.”
and obedience in all things he may ask of me.”
“Thus do I swear, on this my token and my lifeblood, to seal the pledge.”
“Thus do I swear, on this my token and my lifeblood, to seal the pledge,” she said.
“Good. It is done,” said Callador, breaking the contact and removing a small locket from his robe, into which he carefully placed her bloodsoaked lock of hair. Then he turned and started back into the swirling portal.
“Wait!” said Laera. “When shall I see you again?
And how?”
Callador paused. “I shall come to you.”
“But what of my husband? Derwyn shall want to share my bed again before too long.”
“When?”
She shook her head. “I can put him off a few more days, perhaps, but not much longer. He will grow suspicious.”
“A day or two should be sufficient. Obtain a lock of his hair for me.
Tell him you wish it as a keepsake.
I shall come to you the day after tomorrow and collect it.”
Laera frowned uncertainly. Suddenly, she had an idea that something had gone very wrong. “But …
for what purpose?”
and do hereby give my solemn oath as surety … “So that I may devise a spell that will place him of fealty to my teacher, lord, and master. .
into a deep sleep at those times when I come to you.
of fealty to my teacher, lord, and master. . Never fear, it shall not harm him. And he shall of support and loyalty to his designs. . .
awake recalling nothing of my visits.”
He turned and started to walk into the misty tunnel. For a moment, Laera simply sat there, stunned, her mind racing. The lock of hair was more than just a token. If it could be used to cast a spell …
“Callador, wait!” she cried.
He paused inside the tunnel, his dark figure indistinct inside the swirling mist.
“This lord who has become your patron,” she said. “Tell me his name!”
The swirling mist began to dissipate. But before the tunnel disappeared, she heard the wizard speak the name …
“Raesene.”
The word spread far and wide throughout the realm that the emperor sought a bride. Dispatch riders were posted to all the holdings of the nobility throughout the empire, and before long, every member of the aristocracy with an eligible daughter was petitioning for her to be considered. Of those aristocrats with more than one unmarried daughter in the household, some put forth the names of their eldest, some proposed their youngest, while others still proposed them all, inviting the emperor to take his pick as if he were choosing puppies from a litter.
The higher-ranking nobles, mindful of the proper protocol in matters of this kind and wishing not to make a misstep, all sent representatives to court, some with written scrolls that they delivered, setting forth replies. Others sought a direct audience with the lord high chamberlain so that they could repeat verbatim speeches they had memorized, extolling
the virtues of the young noblewoman on whose behalf they acted.
Aedan was soon swamped with petitions and appointments. Each day, he received envoys who came with prepared speeches, scrolls, locket miniatures, and full-size portraits of the women whose cause they were advancing. Dozens more had taken up residence in rooming houses throughout the city, all waiting for their turn. Other nobles, especially the lower-ranking ones whose contempt for proper protocol .
was not as great as their ambition, had actually packed up their daughters and brought them to the capital, hoping to present them personally for the emperor’s inspection.
It seemed every noble in the realm, from archduke to baronet to minor lords of small estates, had at least one daughter to present, and Aedan felt hopelessly ill qualified to choose from among them all.
Even had he felt confident in his abilities to select a list of final candidates to present before the emperor, he could not handle it alone.
He learned that very quickly There seemed to be no limit to the measures some nobles would employ to influence his choice. Many came with handsome gifts, while several offered outright bribes, and one viscount, who was as desperate for advancement as he was utterly unscrupulous, had even offered Aedan his youngest daughter for a mistress if he would advance his eldest for the emperor’s consideration.
Aedan held audiences with nobles who came to parade their daughters before him, decked out in their finest gowns to show their poise and beauty or display their talents. He heard so many ballads strummed on harps and lutes and sung with widely varying degrees of aptitude that he began to hear them in his sleep, and he saw so many examples of embroidery and weaving that his eyes began to cross.
“I cannot bear it any longer, Ariel,” he said one weary night, so driven to distraction that he couldn’t sleep. “I never imagined there would be so many of them! This task is taking up all of my time, and
I am falling hopelessly behind on other vital matters. This was your idea!
You have to help me. Please!”
“Leave it to me,” said Ariel. “You go on about the business of the empire, and I shall handle the selection process. Just put it out of your mind. I will present you with a final list of candidates when I am done.”
“I really don’t think you have any idea what you are letting yourself in for,” Aedan said.
“Oh, I think I do,” Ariel replied. “And what is more, I will be pleased to do it. I have longed for some task that would occupy my time and make me feel useful. Besides, a woman really would be better suited for this sort of thing.”
“I don’t know,” said Aedan dubiously. “It is not that I lack confidence in your abilities, it is just that I am not sure you know Michael well enough to choose the sort of woman he would want.”
“Perhaps not,” Ariel replied, “but I think I can choose the sort of woman he needs. And that is really more important. If she is the right woman, she will make him want her, rest assured.”
With considerable relief, Aedan turned over to his wife the task of screening the candidates, and Ariel set about it with methodical determination. She quickly assembled a committee of ministers and women of the court to assist her. Lord Dorian, chief clerk of the Ministry of the Exchequer, was appointed to her committee so that he could consult his records and keep her apprised of the landed worth of every noble who proposed a daughter as a candidate. Lady Arlen was chosen to assist in making an evaluation of the social graces of those candidates who came in person. Old Rhialla, the senior midwife of the palace, was brought in to make determinations as to the health and constitutions of those applicants who presented themselves to the committee, the better to ensure that anyone chosen for the final list would have the fortitude to bear strong children. And several well-known bards who traveled far and wide across the empire and had a reputation for proper courtly graces were consulted in regard to those candidates who did not come in person, so that they could report on what they had observed when they had visited those holdings and pass on what they had heard, as well.
Within a few weeks, Ariel and her committee had eliminated most of the applicants who came in person, as well as a majority of those who had sent envoys to represent them, and had sent out invitations to those who sounded promising to come and present themselves at the Imperial Cairn.
Each night, Ariel reported on the progress her committee made that day, and Aedan was impressed. A huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
On occasion, Michael would inquire as to how things were progressing, but by and large, he was content to leave things in Aedan’s hands and let him oversee the work of the committee. He seemed neither anxious nor particularly interested, which puzzled Aedan somewhat. For as long as he had known him, which had been all his life, Aedan had never known Michael to show much interest in the fairer sex.
If he had any experience in matters of the heart-or of the flesh-he had conducted himself with such discretion that Aedan was unaware of it.
Of course, Aedan realized with some embarrassment, he himself had hardly been a good example to the emperor in that regard. Michael had known of his affair with Laera, and though he had never brought it up again, he had alluded to it once-when Aedan’s betrothal to Ariel had been announced.
“I approve,” he had said, nodding with satisfaction. “You had given me some cause for concern about your judgment in such matters in the past, but I am pleased to see you have learned from your mistakes. My congratulations, Aedan. I am sure the two of you will be very happy”
Mistakes, thought Aedan. Plural. It was the only time Michael had ever given any indication he knew of his involvement with Sylvanna, as well.
Ultimately, Aedan had decided Michael was simply too preoccupied with his plans for the empire to give much thought to women. He preferred the company of men, but not in any way that led Aedan to believe his appetites might run in that direction. He was polite but cursory with all his ‘ mm isters except Lord Korven, whom he treated like an uncle.
Korven was growing too advanced in age to serve as a general in the field, so instead had been advanced to the post of minister of war.
And Michael dearly loved his troops. “My boys,” he called them, fondly and with great pride. Each day, he drilled 38?
with them and always brought back a few, regardless of their rank or social standing, to share supper with him in the palace, so that he could solicit their opinions, which he often gave more weight than those of his ministers.
The energies and feelings that made most men’s thoughts turn to women were, in Michael’s case, expended in the physical exertions of combat, strenuous training, and making plans for further conquest. He simply had no time for women, became impatient in their company because he did not understand them, and was only interested in marriage because Aedan had convinced him of the necessity of producing an heir.
It made Aedan wonder what sort of woman would appeal to him as a bride.
Through Ariel’s committee, he would be able to make some recommendations, but the final choice, of course, had to be Michael’s.
Unless, perhaps, Ariel were wrong. It could be that Michael would be perfectly content to have the choice made for him. And if he was truly that indifferent, Aedan felt sorry for the woman who would become Empress of Anuire.
In an attempt to achieve some greater understanding, he sought an audience with the old empress, Michael’s mother, Raesa. Having tired of life in the palace, Empress Raesa had retired to a walled estate on the east side of the city, where she lived with several of her ladies-in-waiting and was protected by a detachment of the house guard.
They met in the immaculate gardens within the walls of the estate, and Aedan was surprised to find the empress pruning the plants herself.
She greeted him warmly and led him to a bench by the fountain.
Aedan had not seen her in quite a long time, as she no longer chose to participate in any official functions, and he was surprised at how young she still looked. She was not many years older than he, and there was no gray in her long golden hair, as there already was in his.
She was still attractive, and her eyes sparkled with vitality. It was obvious her new life away from the palace agreed with her. He commented on that fact.
Raesa smiled. “It does agree with me. I never liked living in the palace. It was too cold and drafty. I was forever coming down with the sniffles. I much prefer living here in the city.”
“Do you not get lonely?” Aedan asked.
The empress laughed. “Oh, hardly. I have my friends here with me, and there is no shortage of gentlemen who come to call. I am a woman of wealth and position, and still young enough to look reasonably pleasing to the male eye. My social life is busier now than when I resided at the palace.”
“You have suitors, then?”
“None that I would seriously consider,” she replied. “I enjoy the company of men, but at this stage of my life, I have no desire for any involvement deeper than friendship. I married very young and began to have children soon thereafter. And while Hadrian was a good husband and the experience of marriage had its own rewards, I am not eager to repeat it. I do not lack for companionship, and I desire nothing more.
But then, you did not come here merely to inquire about my welfare, did you?
You came to speak of Michael.”
Aedan nodded. “It is true,” he said. “I must admit I am at a loss to understand him sometimes. I came
to you in search of guidance.”
“You are overwhelmed by the task of choosing a wife for him,” she said.
Aedan sighed. “You see straight to the heart of the matter. My wife has taken it upon herself to free me of the burden of the initial selection process, for which I thank the gods, but for the life of me, I just cannot imagine what sort of woman he would like.
Or would put up with him.”
“You know Michael much be
tter than I do,” Raesa replied. “He comes to see me on occasion, but you have spent far more time with him than I.”
“True, but I lack the proper perspective when it comes to such matters,”
Aedan said. “And while a marriage can easily be arranged based upon a woman’s rank and social standing and ability to bear strong children, I would like, if possible, for it to be based on something more.
Compatibility, at least, or even love.”
Raesa smiled. “That is something neither you nor anyone else could guarantee,” she said. “Love cannot be planned. It may grow, under the right circumstances, but there is no predicting how or when. I came to care deeply for Hadrian over the years, but I was never in love with him. At least, not the sort of love a girl dreams of when she is young.
There was fondness and affection, but never any passion. And for love to exist, there must be passion, at least in the beginning. A greater, gentler sort of love may grow from passion as time passes, but it needs that seed from which to sprout. If that is what you hope to accomplish, and not merely a marriage of political convenience so that Michael may sire an heir, you will need to bring him together with a woman he can feel passionate about, and one who will feel passion for him, as well.”
“But what sort of woman would that be?” asked Aedan with exasperation.
Raesa smiled again. “One who is strong enough not to be intimidated by him,” she replied.
“That is almost exactly what Ariel had said,” he said.
“Then she is wise, and you must listen to her. But that alone is not enough. Michael is a driven man, obsessed with his plans for the future of the empire.
It is all he ever speaks of. He is a great man, and great men are often ambitious, selfish, obstinate, arrogant, and even cruel. You seek a young woman strong enough not to be frightened of such traits and determined enough to wish to change them. Look for an expert horsewoman.”
“A horsewoman?” Aedan said with incomprehension.
“Not one who merely rides well, but one who can control the most spirited of mounts,” the empress said. “One who would not be afraid to saddle an unbroken horse and tame him, one who would regard it as a challenge.”
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