Guild Mage 59

“May I make a suggestion?” Master Grenfell spoke up. “I understand and sympathize with the urge to kick the doors of the palace down and drag someone into the streets for justice,” he said. “But if we are truly seeking a resolution that does not pull the entire kingdom into civil war, it might benefit us to have someone there powerful and respected enough for both sides to listen to.”

“You have someone in mind,” Baron Henry said.

“Archmagus Loredan.”

There was a moment of quiet while everyone considered the master mage’s suggestion. “My uncle has long since removed himself from family politics,” Julianne said. “But that could actually work to our advantage. If he is perceived as somewhat neutral, while also obviously having a vested interest in not only the good of the kingdom, but his family not killing each other…”

“Do it,” Henry said, and the other barons nodded in turn. “Reach out to him, Kazimir. In the meanwhile, we continue to act defensively. No one leaves until a meeting is arranged; if they want to come after any of us, they will have to fight all of us.”

Much of the day passed in restless waiting. The guards, at least, had been organized into shifts and patrols and watches, and Liv felt a little bit jealous of them for having something to do. Ambassador Sakari departed the house once breakfast was done, to return to the embassy and make a statement of his neutrality by doing so. He promised to have Inkeris’ spear delivered to Acton house as soon as the gruesome ice crystals left by Liv’s father had melted. Apparently, during the night, while Liv had been using mana to heal her body, they’d set an Elden guard on the court where the fight had taken place just to retrieve it.

With Matthew and Triss already at Coral Bay, Liv and Cade were left as the only two young people present, and it was an oddly empty feeling. In a very short time, Liv had gotten used to having a crowd of other people close to her own age around, whether as guests at the table, or laughing and dancing at the Black Horse. She knew that in the strictest of terms none of them actually were her age, but they felt more like it than grown humans.

The absence was compensated by the presence of her father, and even thinking the phrase held a tinge of dreamlike unreality to it. For her entire life, Liv had wondered what it would be like to have a father, and now she wasn’t entirely sure what to do in his presence. So, she asked questions.

“You’re certain they’ll want me?” she repeated, for at least the third time. The sun had never come out, and the back garden had been judged too exposed to defend properly in any case, so they were in the library. Between the warmth of the fire in the hearth, a cup of tea cradled in her hands, and the sound of rain falling outside, Liv could almost have forgotten about all the danger.

“You’ve grown up among humans,” her father began. “And so, your perspective will naturally have been shaped by that. The Vædim bred two races of slaves, for two different purposes. Humans were for hard labor. They weren’t designed to last long, because they would end up sick and injured anyway. Whether it was lost at sea while fishing, or killed in a collapsing mine, they were intended to die and be quickly replaced. As a result, humans are designed to reproduce quickly, to mature quickly, and to die quickly. The Vakansa were not. If you spend years training a singer to entertain your guests, you want her to last a while. We are not nearly so fertile as humans are, and we mature more slowly so that we could be trained in specialized duties over the course of many years. They didn’t send us to the mines: they taught us to paint their portraits, or dance.”

“All of which is to say that our children are very rare. Keri, there,” Valtteri said, nodding to the younger Elden man, “was incredibly blessed to have a child with his kwenim in only a few short years.”

“Kwenim?” Liv asked.

“The closest word humans have is ‘wife,” Inkeris said, from the desk where he was leafing through a book. “Though that isn’t entirely accurate.”

“Shouldn’t it be Kwenia, then?” Liv asked.

“It’s symbolic,” Liv’s father explained. “To make the word singular would be to imply there would be only one. We want to remind our people that taking a single partner does not close the heart to what else may come.”

“This goes back to what you and the Ambassador said before, about living so long,” Liv said, looking to Inkeris. “It’s nothing like how humans do things.” She turned back to her father. “Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t be courting a human, like they did?”

“I’ve known you less than a day,” Valterri told her, with a smile. “I thought I might wait until at least a week had gone by before criticizing your choices. Perhaps a season before our first argument.”

Liv laughed, but before she could ask another question, the door opened. Cade stepped into the room. “It’s time,” he said. “They’re getting the carriages ready now.”

Inkeris and Valterri rose immediately, but Liv waited for Cade to walk over and give her a hand up. She didn’t need his help to stand, of course, even after everything she’d been through the night before, but she was finding that she enjoyed the gestures. Courting permitted a great deal of touching that would otherwise be inappropriate, often concealed in the forms of etiquette. It was like a game, played out in plain sight, but she still often felt as if she was getting away with something improper.

“I’m sorry that I’ve neglected you,” she told him as they walked out into the hall.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Cade said. “If I had a chance to talk to my mother, I can only imagine how it would feel. I’m happy for you.”

Thora had brought Liv’s winter cloak from her rooms, and she kept the hood up to ward off the rain when she stepped out of the house. “Is this you?” she called to Lady Julianne, having to raise her voice to be heard over the driving rain.

“They’ll have a hard time gathering troops in a downpour,” the baron’s wife shouted back with a grin. “No crossbows. And it will make calling lightning easier.” Liv noticed that Julianne had her bone want again, and gripped her own staff tightly. She ended up in a carriage with her father, Cade, and Inkeris. With the thunder rumbling overhead, and the wind whipping about, Liv felt badly for the guards who rode alongside their procession.

When they reached the palace, ranks upon ranks of armed palace guards awaited them, standing at attention in front of the steps. Water streamed down their helmets, their polearms, and their faces. Even with her cloak, Liv found herself shivering by the time they were escorted inside. With a muttered incantation from Baron Henry, all of the water fell out of their cloaks, leaving the party dry again.

She’d only ever been to the palace twice before, once in the gardens, and once the ballroom, so it was no surprise that they were led to rooms that Liv had never seen before. There was a long table with ornate chairs surrounding it, in a room hung with tapestries. Prince Benedict sat in a chair at the far end, flanked by Princess Milsant and an older blonde woman that Liv didn’t recognize. The Royal Court Mage, Genevieve Arundell, was there, as well as Baron Howe and a few men dressed like merchants. The Archmagus, who Liv had seen at the conclave of the mages’ guild, stood at the center of the table. Julianne immediately moved to the chair opposite where Benedict sat, claiming the foot of the table for herself, and the others grouped up around her.

“I must say, I was surprised to receive your message, Master Grenfell,” Caspian Loredan said. His voice easily filled the chamber. “And disappointed. This is not how family should behave.” The archmage did not take a seat.

“I agree, Uncle,” Julianne said. “My son was stabbed in the back, and nearly died. My ward was ambushed by crossbowmen and men armed with hammers. I’ve survived enough attempts on my own life to be used to it by now, Benedict, but attacking the children crosses a line.”

“I don’t suppose you will believe me if I tell you that I ordered neither of these things,” the prince said.

“If the queen is having people assassinated without your knowledge, I don’t think much of your ability to hold the kingdom together after our father is gone,” Julianne shot back.

“Milisant,” Benedict said, turning to his daughter.

“It was my grandmother who told me to get into a duel with her,” the princess said, nodding her head in Liv’s direction. “She told me it would be an easy win, and stop you from coming after us.”

“I’ve never tried to take your inheritance, Benedict,” Julianne said, raising her voice. “I just want her to stop.”

“Let us say for a moment that I believe you,” Benedict said. “I didn’t, as a child, but I have come to think a large part of that was simply due to my mother constantly whispering in my ear. You don’t want to be queen. Why the play for duchess, then? And how did you get the Falkenraths to go along with it?”

“That was simple enough,” Julianne said. “It gave them away not to get dragged into this fight right here. It separates us.”

“Niece,” Archmagus Loredan broke in, “are you willing to accept your cousin’s word that he was not behind the attempted assasination of your son?”

“Do you have House Sherard’s word?” Liv asked, then immediately flinched as everyone looked at her. She felt as if she’d dropped a very expensive plate in the middle of the kitchen. “It would prove what he says, wouldn’t it? Those birds attacked me. If none of you can control them, it must have been the queen, or someone else in her side of the family.”

“You would still only have my word,” Benedict countered.

“No,” his uncle said. “It is possible to reveal which words of power a person has imprinted. And I suspect,” continued the Archmagus, turning to regard Liv’s father, “I am not even the only person in this room who could do so.”

“You are not,” Valterri said. “If you and I both examine them, there will be no question of the truth. That will still not settle the matter of that girl trying to kill my daughter,” he told them, pointed at Princess Milisant.

“We can come back to that in a moment.” Archmagus Loredan raised a hand, inviting Liv’s father to join him. Together, the two men rounded the table. “Your hands,” the mage demanded. “You first, nephew.”

Benedict extended both his hands, allowing his uncle to take one and Liv’s father to take the other. Liv felt something happen: she couldn’t have explained what, exactly, but it was undeniable. Like the way air in a room stirred when you opened a window.

Valterri shook his head. “Luc, Ve and Ven. I don’t sense any trace of Avi.”

“The original marriage contract specified only that father could learn the word,” Benedict said. “Not her children.”

“Ven?” Julianne asked, raising her eyebrows, and the blonde woman at the prince’s side stirred.

“That is from my family,” she said. “Millie, dear, give Uncle Caspian your hand. Would you all like me to be examined, as well?”

“It would be best, Princess Artemesia,” Baron Henry said. “For surety.”

The entire room waited while Benedict’s wife and daughter were checked in turn, to the same results. “Are you satisfied?” Archmagus Loredan asked Lady Julianne, once he had returned to his seat and Liv’s father had walked back to take a place at her side.

“Satisfied? No,” Julianne said. “These children were still attacked. If it was the queen who gave the order, than it is the queen who must pay for it.”

“No one is dead,” Benedict protested.

“A score of corpses would argue with that,” Valterri remarked.

“No one of consequence,” the prince continued.

“Attempted murder is still a crime,” Baron Talbot spoke up. “Unless you are arguing that the queen is above that. I suspect the great council would not agree.”

“Would you have me execute my own mother?” Benedict shot back.

“Imprison her,” Julianne said. “Put her on some island, with guards to keep her there. Let her gulls be her only company, while she withers away like the miserable old hag she is.”

“If I agree to this,” Benedict said, pronouncing the words very slowly, “I want you to cede any future claim that you or your descendants might make, in perpetuity. I want you to go back north to your mountains, and never come to the capital again. If I find you in Freeport, I will consider it an act of rebellion. If I learn you’ve raised a banner, I’ll come for you with the kingdom at my back.”

“I’d like nothing more than to leave this rotten city behind,” Julianne said. “My son and Liv, and any of their descendants, must be permitted to attend college at Coral Bay. And I want your guarantee of their safety, Benedict.”

“I won’t send anyone to kill them,” the prince began, but Lady Julianne broke in and stoppe him.

“Not just you,” she said. “Anyone. If Matthew dies in the Tidal Rift with a knife in his back, I will blame you. If a bold of lighning falls on Liv in the middle of a storm, I will blame you. If either of those two children die, whatever accident or mischance it appears to be, you will answer for it.” She raised her hand, and thunder rumbled outside the palace.

“The fact that he taught you that word,” Benedict said, “was part of what convinced my mother he favored you. You haven’t taught your son, have you?”

Julianne shook her head.

“Do we have an agreement?” Archmagus Loredan asked. “Julianne will return north. She will be recognized as Duchess, and her descendants permitted to learn at Coral Bay. She will not return to Freeport in her lifetime, nor raise an army save in defense of the kingdom’s northern border. She will pay the same taxes, and hold the same rights, as any duke. The Queen will be imprisoned and exiled; I have some thoughts as to which island, and a few steps that might be taken to ensure she will never leave. And there will be peace.”

“I want Valegard,” Julianne said. “Baron Crosbie has already agreed. And the right to appoint barons of my own, to join him.”

“Done,” Benedict said, with a sigh.

“I haven’t yet heard how that girl will pay for trying to kill my daughter,” Valterri said, placing a hand on Liv’s shoulder.

“Dueling is not illegal,” Prince Benedict said. “Your daughter could have refused.”

“And I can pull my house’s agreements with your guilds,” Liv’s father responded. “No more cold storage for transporting food. How would your people respond to that, I wonder? Would there be riots? The guilds would lose a great deal of money, I imagine.”

“What do you want?” Benedict asked.

“That set of rings and the bracelet,” Liv said. “Linked by chains, with the mana-stones in them.”

“If you need Aluthet'Staia, I can buy it for you,” her father said.

Liv shook her head. “It isn’t that. Everyone who has ever seen the princess duel knows that it’s hers. When they see me wear it, they’ll all know who it came from. It makes a point.”

“Fine,” Benedict said. “It will be at Acton House this evening. And your family, sister, will depart tomorrow.”

“We depart after the council has recognized my title,” Julianne said. “And the queen?”

“Have her brought in now,” Archmagus Loredan said, and Benedict nodded to one of the guards. “I will explain it to my brother, but not this evening. It isn’t one of his good days.”

The room waited in awkward silence until the guards returned, with little more than the creak of a chair to break the stillness. Benedict and Julianne kept their eyes locked on each other, as if for either one to look away would be a sign of weakness, inviting attack.

When the door of the chamber swung open again, it revealed an old woman with a guard at either arm. She wore a dress in black and purple cloth, with gold embroidery, and a matching veil.

“Benedict,” she began, “what is it-”

Liv could tell the moment the queen saw Julianne, because the old woman froze.

“What is that bastard girl doing here,” the old woman hissed. “It’s an insult. Your father should have never permitted her in the palace.”

Lady Julianne’s chair scraped against the floor as she pushed it aside and stood. “Stepmother,” she said, turning to face the queen and approaching until she was within arm’s length.

“You will address me properly,” the queen spat. “I thought I’d managed to teach you that, at least.”

“Tell her,” Julianne said, glancing back at Benedict.

“You are hereby under arrest, Mother,” the prince said. “You are accused of conspiracy to commit murder twice over, first upon Matthew Summerset, and secondly upon Livara Tär Valtteri. You will be imprisoned for the remainder of your natural life.”

“It is a lie,” the queen said.

“If it is a lie,” Julianne said, “then perhaps you would like to name someone else with the Sherard word of power who is guilty in your place?” The old woman set her mouth, and refused to speak.

“Take her away,” Benedict said. “And let us be done with this mess.”