Shard & Shield

by Laura VanArendonk Baugh

  “I hope so.” She looked at Bethia. “That is….”

  “It’s only a matter of time.” Bethia smiled again, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  Ariana fingered the delicate comb. It was no one’s fault that Bethia simply couldn’t make the Circle, even if she refused to admit it. “It is beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “These pearls are a specialty of Soek,” Bethia said, leaning forward to look at the comb. “They’re found only in the inland sea there.” She sat back and drew a book near. “I wouldn’t mind a bite myself,” she said, flipping pages. “Inversion wells?”

  “I know the easy material,” Ariana protested. “I’m wrestling with amplification right now.” She glanced at Tam. “Please bring Lady Bethia a tray.”

  “Those were the last of the oat cakes, my lady.”

  “Then find something else, please? Thanks.”

  Tam turned to go, and Bethia made a sound of amusement. “Twice.”

  “Twice what?”

  “Twice you said please. Sweet all, Ariana, he’s a slave, and a boy even.”

  Ariana bristled. “He’s a nice boy. He’s been with us for years, and I rather like him. What’s wrong with being pleasant?”

  “He’ll get above himself.”

  Ariana stifled an inappropriate giggle. “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s just it, you’re not thinking. Think of the slave revolts. And think how it looks to others, speaking to a slave as if he were your equal. Do you want to be seen as a slave’s equal?” Bethia leaned forward. “And not just the slave, either. I can help you shed the bastard.”

  “Shianan Becknam?”

  “I’ve seen how he speaks to you. He walks right up as if entitled, as if he has a special claim on your friendship. It’s humiliating; I’d be tearing my clothes.”

  “You overreact. He doesn’t mean anything by it. We worked together, of course we know one another.”

  “Ugh! How casually you say that. You can’t let him attach himself to you.”

  Ariana wanted to roll her eyes. “I hardly think talking to Shianan Becknam will poison my life in Alham.”

  “Maybe not your life, but your prospects at court, certainly.”

  Ariana set her jaw. “I choose my friends by my own preferences, not those of some prissy-panted court sycophant. And I think I rather like Shianan Becknam.” She did, too, more in that moment than ever.

  “If you say so. Your prospects, not mine. Let’s leave this and you can tell me about casting through a medium despite refraction.” Bethia tapped the book pointedly.

  Ariana drummed her fingers. She had no particular regard for Shianan Becknam; in fact, she was a bit afraid of his incriminating knowledge. No doubt Bethia, the duke’s daughter, knew best—but she irritated Ariana.

  But Bethia had her volume on casting through impediments, and Ariana could not afford to lose a study partner so near her coming assessment. She took a slow breath. “Casting through any medium with a refractive index greater than that of air will require the mage to calculate the refractive angle to direct the energy accurately. To calculate the refractive angle we must first know the incident angle….”

  Chapter 13

  Ariana stepped out of the Wheel, the early autumn sunlight bright against her face after the dim stone building, and clenched her fists in suppressed excitement. She wanted to squeal or dance with giddy happiness, but that was hardly admissible on the very threshold of the dignified Great Circle.

  Soldiers, tradesmen, grey mages, and palace servants crossed the yard before her, none paying her any heed—none but one, who hesitated and turned toward her. “My lady?” Shianan Becknam called. “Well? I heard it was today….”

  Ariana beamed. “I passed! I am now the Black Mage.”

  “I was certain you would.”

  She grinned. “I was nervous anyway.”

  “Of course you were.” He took a quick breath. “May I help you celebrate?”

  “How?”

  “However you like! If there’s something you—” He faltered.

  Ariana tipped her head to look at him. “My lord?”

  His eyes slid to the side. “It was only an idea. You might have other friends waiting to treat you.”

  People of influence did not keep the bastard’s company, lest they lose that influence. You can’t let him attach himself to you like that.

  Under the weight of her hesitation, Becknam began to excuse her. “But no doubt your father has—”

  “Yes,” Ariana interrupted, “I would like to celebrate.” She held his eyes.

  He smiled, almost shyly. “Of course, my lady,” he said.

  “Your lordship!” A page jogged toward them, winded. “I’ve been looking everywhere for your lordship. His Majesty calls for you.”

  Becknam went still. “Where is he?”

  “In his accounting room, my lord.”

  “Go on, then; I’ll go to him.” Becknam turned slowly back to Ariana. “I’m sorry, but—”

  “I’ll come along and wait for you.”

  “My lady….”

  She smiled brightly at him. “I have no pressing affairs, now my examination’s done. I will wait until you have finished your business. I don’t mind.” She remembered his mood after seeing the king the last time; he might well forget her.

  Why had he offered to celebrate with her? Ariana and her father seemed the last people he should seek out. But they shared secrets, and perhaps that was enough.

  They walked together deeper into the Naziar palace, climbing to a higher level and a dimmer, narrower wing. This was not where the king received courtiers and ambassadors or held policy meetings; this was the palace behind the palace, where ledgers were kept and hushed conferences were held. Becknam opened a door and went into a small anteroom, empty but for a few chairs, a desk, and two deep alcoves with stone seats where petitioners would have waited long ago, before the newer wings of the palace were built.

  Becknam faced her. “Wait outside, please. I will join you afterward.” He turned and passed through the heavy curtain which separated the antechamber from the accounting room beyond. The curtain hung partly open, and she could see him pause inside the door to await acknowledgment.

  She turned toward the alcoves. There were faces on either side of the entrances, quite detailed in their differences; probably they were meant to depict real kings. Inside above the benches were other faces, becoming less detailed and more iconic as they stretched back into time. Ariana moved into the alcove to examine them.

  A muffled voice from beyond the curtain said something, and someone else spoke sharply. A moment later the curtain opened and three men exited. Ariana drew back, suddenly afraid she shouldn’t be here, but they only muttered among themselves and exited, never glancing toward her alcove.

  Had they just been dismissed? Was King Jerome seeing Becknam alone? She felt a little shiver of excitement. Perhaps there was a secret acknowledgment there—cold before the court, but privately….

  She left the alcove and moved toward the curtain, guiltily curious. Just one peek, she told herself, and then she would leave them to themselves.

  There were places where the heavy curtains did not hang together; she chose a gap where the curtain didn’t quite meet the doorway and leaned close to glimpse through it. Instead of the two men facing one another as she had imagined, she saw Becknam kneeling as he had before, bent low over his right knee, his head toward the floor. The king was pacing, saying something Ariana couldn’t hear.

  She shrank back, ashamed. Why was Becknam still kneeling?

  “And the Gehrn!” King Jerome’s voice came sharply through the curtain. Ariana cringed. Becknam was being chastised; no wonder the others had been dismissed. No wonder he had not wanted to bring her.

  She could not go after the men who had left, not now, or they would see she had stayed behind and accuse her of eavesdropping. Only Becknam knew she was here. She would wait.

  She heard Be
cknam’s voice next, the words soft and unclear but unmistakably his tone. She swallowed her guilt and leaned her ear near the curtain, sacrificing sight for sound. “…the best way to obtain the Shard without—”

  “Enough!” King Jerome snapped. There was a dull thud and a soft grunt. Ariana jerked to peer through the hole and saw the king draw back his leg and kick Becknam again, catching him in the left side just below the ribs. Becknam grunted again but made no move to evade. Ariana caught her breath, staring in disbelief, her whole body flinching.

  The king turned toward the curtain. “There is more, of course. Besides bringing the Gehrn right to Alham’s heart, you…” He turned back and the sound faded. Ariana strained to hear. “…filling posts!”

  Becknam did not move.

  The king faced Becknam again and sighed. “I brought you to this court to better gauge you. Last year I raised you to the nobility, thinking it would be a reward for service to this crown and it might further inspire your loyalty with gratitude.” He looked at Becknam. “I thought I had done well. I thought you would serve me well. And I gave you this vital task for your own success and glory.” He stepped back, frowning. “But instead I see you inviting militaristic cults to our capital, into our very Circle, and bringing men loyal to you into the army here.”

  Becknam’s voice was flat and neutral. “Sire, when you charged me with this task you allowed me the authority to treat with the Gehrn if necessary. Though militaristic, they do not seek to conquer and will not threaten us here. I submitted a full report at the time I brought the Shard.”

  “I did not realize their rites were perpetual. And a Gehrn holding here within the city….” He sighed. “Always you bring me partial triumphs. You bring me the Shard, but with the Gehrn. You defeat the Ryuven, but with heavy losses.” He looked at Becknam again. “Must I purchase your loyalty?”

  “No, Your Majesty.” Becknam’s voice was hardly audible.

  “I have no use for men who must be bought,” the king said. “I must have men who are proven.” He paused. “If the shield holds, we will at last have the resources to deal with the treacherous warlords, and we will move to reclaim our borderlands south of Heege. You must win that for me, cleanly.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “You will serve under General Kannan when that time comes.”

  “Sire, General Kannan is a man of the east and does not know Heege. Heege is heavy terrain and will be difficult to—”

  King Jerome kicked him again, making Ariana jump. “Do not make excuses to me!” He stopped and closed his eyes, seeming to argue with himself. “You are above excuses. You have more within you than that. You could be as worthy as my Soren, if you tried.” He looked at Becknam’s bowed head and it looked as if he wanted to say more, though in the end he said only, “You—may go.” But the king himself started toward the curtain, leaving Becknam on the carpet behind him.

  Ariana shrank back and threw herself deep into the alcove. King Jerome shoved back the curtain and passed without noticing her, and she barely breathed relief. Now Becknam would exit, and he would expect her to be in the corridor beyond. But she dared not rush out on the heels of the king—

  Becknam came through the curtain, holding his side, and Ariana jumped in surprise. He looked toward her sharply and suddenly his hand was only brushing a bit of dust from his tunic. “My lady.”

  He did not want her to know. She could not humiliate him with her knowledge. She smiled, hoping it looked sincere. “I was just coming for you.”

  He looked at her for an eternal moment and then relaxed marginally. “I’m finished here.”

  “Then you owe me a walk.” She gestured to the carved faces. “I was looking at these kings. I confess I don’t recognize most of them.”

  “Nor I,” he said, relaxing a little more. “Let’s go outside, if you don’t mind? We can walk along the green.”

  “Sounds fine.”

  They walked in silence out of the palace, away from the Wheel of the Circle and the king’s home and the crush of people. Ariana let him set the pace, in case he was in pain, but he betrayed no sign of discomfort. There was a small gate in the wall and Becknam led her out onto the green—once the fortress’s grazing ground, centuries ago, but now a strip of grass kept primarily for tradition. A little distance away a girl tended a flock of geese.

  Becknam’s eyes were unseeing, focused on the ground a little distance ahead of them. Ariana cleared her throat. “It’s more enjoyable if we also speak, my lord.”

  He seemed to startle. “I’m sorry, my lady. I’m not much company now. If you want talk, you’ll have to begin it.”

  “I had hoped we wouldn’t be reduced to talking about the weather. Do you think the rains will come early this autumn?”

  “I hope not.”

  “You don’t like rain? Maybe not to walk in, but its sound on the roof can be so cozy at night.”

  He shook his head. “Not even the sound of it. Build a roaring fire loud enough to drown it out.”

  “What would you prefer?”

  “Our nights can be quite different,” he reminded her. “If we’re out, I like to hear the sentries calling back and forth at night. I know then all is well. And—” He stopped abruptly and scowled. “It’s a foolish question.”

  “Then you should have offered me better conversation.”

  “Then answer yourself,” he returned. “What pleases you, besides being drenched by rain?”

  “I must be easily pleased, as I enjoy so many things.” She smiled and ticked them off on her fingers. “Study with my father, performing difficult magic well, sunshine on flowers, chocolate, seeing horses—”

  “Horses?”

  “I think they’re beautiful creatures. So exotic. I wish there were more of them.”

  He nodded. “I suppose I like them, too.”

  “Ah, something we share. And I like to hear when I’ve done well, mastered a particularly difficult challenge.”

  He eyed her skeptically. “Praise.”

  “Don’t mock me! I’m sure you appreciate it, too. Even Tam is glad of a word of thanks—as are most slaves, I think.”

  “How is Tam, anyway?”

  She noted the change in subject, but followed it. “He’s recovered completely. He slept the day through in Father’s office, and then we kept him quiet at home another day, but he shows no ill effects now.”

  “If you will forgive me, at least it is proof the shield works.”

  “True—if he had been fully Ryuven, it would have shredded his heart.” She sighed. “He is unhappy though, I think. There was a good friend he left, who risked his life to help Tam. Tam worries over him.”

  “Slaves everywhere are unhappy,” Becknam said curtly. “Freemen are unhappy. Why should Tam be different?”

  Ariana looked at him, stung.

  Becknam seemed to realize his mistake. “I’m sorry, my lady. It’s only—I should not have said it that way.”

  Ariana exhaled slowly. “Tam was outcast by his brother—his half-brother, maybe. When he did not die in battle, a price was placed on his head. But he wanted to be reconciled. I think he would have done almost anything.”

  Becknam regarded her warily. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Tread carefully. “I only meant to explain why he is unhappy.”

  Becknam nodded slowly. “Then I have something in common with the Ryuven slave after all; my half-brothers hate me too.”

  It was the first time he’d alluded to his forbidden parentage. “Why?” she asked, since he’d broached the subject himself.

  He shrugged. “Why not? I am a political tool and a constant reminder that their father is imperfect, that the king erred. And their mother….”

  Ariana swallowed. “The queen dislikes you.”

  “The queen will not be satisfied while I breathe,” Becknam said darkly. “You have seen how she has stayed in Kalifi rather than the Naziar these recent years?”

  “For her health. The air
and water are beneficial there.”

  “Nothing like,” Becknam snapped. “She said she would not set foot in Alham while I am here. She has come sometimes while I was away fighting, but she has kept her word.”

  “My lord, I—”

  “Don’t,” he said, turning his face away. “I have spoken more freely with you than anyone, and we’ve traveled together as comrades. I would very much like one person to call me by name—please.” He looked a little wild, his expression earnest. “Is that too forward, too impolite for the White Mage’s daughter?”

  She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”

  He smiled, embarrassed. “Forgive me—it is the Black Mage now, isn’t it?”

  “So it is. And don’t forget it.”

  He sighed. “I am sorry for saying so much. I shouldn’t have. It’s only, after meeting him….”

  “But I asked you to talk,” she reminded him. “And after all, you have a secret of mine as well.” She started walking again, so he had to follow. “In truth, this is what I wanted, to hear you speaking as yourself.”

  “Do I speak as someone else?”

  “I haven’t seen enough of the count to be certain. But I think you speak as the commander at times.”

  “I was raised a soldier.”

  “But you say what you think one should, even if unconvinced yourself. That is why you felt you should report Tam even—”

  He stopped and faced her. “My lady, listen to me. If Tam is ever discovered, if anyone believes I knew about him, I will be dead before he will. He will at least be worth something, for interrogation or barter. As far as I am concerned, it will only be a long-awaited excuse to dispose of an inconvenient mistake.”

  She stared at him, shaking her head. “Surely….”

  Becknam smiled grimly. “It’s poor form to slaughter one’s own blood without at least an ostensible cause. But I am a potential figurehead, and if there is a hint of treason and I can be attached to it in any fashion, that will be proof enough.” He shook his head. “I do believe your father, I think. But guard Tam well, my lady, please, for if he is revealed it may be that of us all only you survive, and that is not certain.” He moved aside abruptly, putting space between them. “I’m sorry, my lady. I shouldn’t have frightened you.”