Enchanter (Book 7) (66 page)

“Affairs of the heart are never an easy matter,” I soothed.  I wondered what Ishi could do to help.  Political marriages were hardly affairs of the heart, but she might have some influence.

“Affairs of state are even more difficult,” she admitted.  “Technically, I shouldn’t even be entertaining a Remerean proposal, since Tavard married that stupid bitch.  I should be married off to someone in Alshar, or even Merwyn.  But with the rebellion in the south and my cousin pretending to be duke, there really aren’t many good prospects there.  And Castal . . . Castali lords are lining up with presents for my parents, but again they are too old or too lowly ranked,” she said, frustrated.  “When I helped put this kingdom together it was not for the purpose of seeing my future destroyed!” she said, frustrated.

“You have plenty of time, yet,” I counseled.  “Best you make the best selection, rather than move in haste and end up with regrets.”

“What I’m worried about more is rebellion,” she said, sulkily.  “One thing was clear from my Remeran excursion: support for the crown there is tepid, at best.  Some of the most prestigious great houses were reluctant to advance a suitor because they quietly doubted the longevity of our rule. 
The nerve!”
she said, angrily.  “As if we’d let ourselves be pushed aside for anything!”

“Isn’t that what your mother is doing to you?” I pointed out.

She pouted.  “Yes, that is precisely what she’s doing with me.  Now that Tavard is prince, and he has a godsdamned heir, I’m a political liability.  A liability! 
Me!”
she said, raising her voice.  I tried to imagine the man who would wish to wed her, if it hadn’t been for her family, her position, and her wealth.  There was not much coming to mind.

“Perhaps something will suggest itself,” I offered, hopefully. 

“It had better,” she growled.  “I will not be eliminated from political life just because Tavard whined to Mother about me!”

“You may not have much choice, Rardine,” I said, gently.  Despite her vitriolic personality and her outrageous sense of entitlement, I was a little sympathetic to the brat.  Sure, she was bloodthirsty and power mad, but only because that’s how her mother and father had trained her.  “You are a political asset, but one which your mother knows must be employed soon.  To shore up the regime, if needed.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” she agreed.  “But I will not be wedded to some pock-marked coastal baron or some Wenshari count’s nephew . . . I am of royal blood, and my husband should be of a lineage at least as grand as mine!”  There was genuine anguish in her voice.  It took a lot of self-control not to break out in giggles over her predicament.

“Besides your marital prospects, how are things?” I asked.  Despite my caution in dealing with her, I could see that Rardine was just a young girl in a difficult situation.  She was used to getting attention from everyone, and had fully expected that to be magnified with her family’s rise in status.  Just as I had used her cousin Anguin’s low status at court as an opportunity to set him on his quest to re-establish Alshar, I saw Rardine’s anguish at being ignored as a chance to improve our relationship.  Sure, it was distasteful.  That’s how court politics works.

“Fine, fine, as well as can be expected.  But if you’re asking as a preamble to get me to speak with my brother about lessening your house arrest, you have made an error.  His wife, damn her, doesn’t like me.  I’ve barely spoken to him since the wedding, and most of those conversations have not gone well.”

“That was not my intention,” I promised.  “In truth, I don’t mind tending to my lands right now.  It allows me time to pursue my studies and secure my estates.  While I admit the freedom would be nice, I would not ask you for such a favor, Highness.”

She looked at me confused.  “Then what did you want with me?”

“Is it so unimaginable that I would merely want to pay a courtesy on my Princess, while I am at the palace?”

“Without ulterior motive?  Why yes, that is incredibly unimaginable.  No one comes to see me without wanting something from me.”

“I assure you, I desire nothing but to see after your continued good health and well-being.”

She looked at me with even more suspicion.  “Now I
know
you want something, Spellmonger.  No one cares about my well-being except Mother.  And considering I’ve threatened to kill you . . .”

“You
tried
to kill me,” I corrected.  “Hamlan, remember?”

She threw up her hands.  “Right!  Hamlan!  I’d forgotten his name, the incompetent arse!  But why would you even consider approaching me after that?”

“That was a political move during a different time.  I don’t hold a grudge, now that the Family and I have hammered out a better understanding.  And despite our past opposition, I can appreciate a keen intelligence when I see one.”

“Were that I was as dumb as my sister-in-law!” she snarled.  “Do you know what Mother is grooming me for, after I’m wedded?  She wants me to take over Lady Arnet’s position, in Lands & Estates!  Me, in that dusty old tomb!”

“She can’t live forever,” I pointed out.  “Though it certainly seems like it.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to inherit her tomb,” she said, miserably.  “Mother wants me to watch over Tavard and his brats and sacrifice my own future for the good of the Kingdom.  That’s the last place I want to be.  I should be making policy and enforcing it, not chasing parchment!”  She sounded a little desperate.  “But that still doesn’t explain why you are here, Spellmonger,” she said, accusingly.

“I am here for no greater purpose to continue our relations,” I said, smoothly.  “I do not need your assistance or influence at court . . . but it occurs to me that you might one day need mine.”

“How so?”

“In any number of ways.  You are a woman who can appreciate the power of a clandestine alliance.   Surely the offer of a favor without conditions, at your discretion, has some value to you?”

“Of course.  But there are always conditions.”

“My only interest is your position regarding Baroness Isily.”

“Isily?  I haven’t seen her since her wedding. I hear she is bearing that bastard’s brat, now.”

“So you have not set her on a mission concerning me?”

“No.  She’s been semi-retired since . . . since Timberwatch.  After such a success she got a few easy missions and then was allowed to leave active service.  She still helps with training, from what I understand, but her only job is to make babies, keep Dunselen under control, and keep you under watch.”

“So you are spying on me.”

“Of course.  Are you not spying on me?” she asked.

I was taken aback.  “Not at the moment.  Why?  Should I be?”

“You’re an idiot if you don’t.  I’m dangerous, Spellmonger.  Don’t you know that?  You should be watching us all, if you have a brain under that pointed hat.  We set Isily to watch you because she had the best chance to stay close to you.  Particularly after your past relationship.  But that was all she was supposed to do.  Honestly, we haven’t even heard much of a report on that.  I think the last one was from a month ago, maybe two.  Your little fair?”

“Yes, she was there, and we did . . . speak,” I said, swallowing.  “But she was acting more like an operative than a passive observer.  I think she has plans concerning me,” I offered.

“Oh, she surely does,” she agreed with unpleasant enthusiasm.  “She’s obsessed by you, Spellmonger.  Your power, your features, your position – she thinks you will be the greatest mage in history, someday.  She fully intends on being the one by your side when that happens.  Totally obsessed,” she said, nodding thoughtfully.

That was chilling news.  I suppressed a shiver.  “I got that impression.  So if you and the Family aren’t behind what she’s doing . . .”

“She’s acting independently,” Rardine nodded.  “For her own purposes.  I think she sets her sights too low, but then she’s merely a Magelord.  There isn’t much selection.  Even then she has options in your profession.  I mean, why would she consent to marry a dud like Dunselen when there are so many handsome, strapping warmagi running around?  Rich ones, too.”

That . . . was an
excellent
question.  One I didn’t have an answer to, beyond what Isily had told me.

“If she continues, I may have to take action,” I warned.  “I wanted to let you and the Family know why, before I did.”

“She’s on her own, as far as Mother is concerned.  She was paid off and allowed to retire to her reward.  The last thing she wants to do right now is ruffle your feathers, not with so much unrest.  Mother was quite cross with Tavard for being stern with you over last summer.  But he’s an arse and insisted on his ‘ducal privilege’, and she let him get away with it.  Sorry,” she added.  “I didn’t think you deserved that.”

“Thanks,” I shrugged.  “It was his right.  He could have done something worse.  I pissed him off.  I knew that there would be consequences.  I don’t try to avoid them.”

“Then you have more honor than most lords,” she reflected.  “But you have also made a powerful opponent in Tavard.  My brother is not the sharpest sword in the armory, but he is not stupid.  Nor is he humble.  Now that he is the Prince Heir, he is jealous of his position in the way that only the most irritating of courtiers do.  Pray do not cross him again, lest he let his temper guide his policies.”

“I appreciate the warning, Highness,” I said, rising.  “And do remember my offer.  It was made in all sincerity.  I do not wish to see you pushed into the margins.  I may not particularly like your style, but I respect your wit and am sympathetic to your plight.  In the future, perhaps we can help each other.”

She frowned.  “You don’t like . . . my style?” she asked, accusingly.  I thought she was going to get angry, but instead she just looked sad. 

“It’s nothing personal, Highness,” I said, realizing belatedly my mistake.  “Considering our introduction, and subsequent events, it has made me wary of you.  You are dangerous, after all, Highness.  Your style reflects that.”

She frowned, then drained her wine.  “Thank you for coming by, Spellmonger,” she sighed, gloomily.  “Believe it or not, you’ve been the nicest caller I’ve had since I returned from Remere.”

*

*

I reflected on my conversations with Lady Arnet and Princess Rardine as we walked back across the bailey toward the Court Wizard’s tower.  If the Family was not behind Isily’s machinations, and she was, as suggested by those who knew her best, obsessed with me, then I had a problem.  And not one that would wait indefinitely for my attention.  I was acutely aware of how far along Isily was in her pregnancy.  She would give birth sometime this summer, Trygg willing.  And whatever she was after would likely happen directly after that.

I was limited in the things I could do about it.  I really needed more information.

“Master, is all wizard business this boring?” Ruderal asked.  “All we’ve done is walk around and talk to people.”

“This isn’t strictly wizard business, this is Magelord business,” I chuckled.  “But as you are apprenticed to a Magelord, it is best you see the boring bits as much as the exciting bits.”

“I suppose you are right,” he said, a little sulkily.  “Who was that woman you spoke to?”

“She was the Princess of Castalshar.  I needed to pay my respects.”

“That’s not all you were doing, was it?” he asked.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because your pattern tells me that you wanted her to answer questions, and she did.  You wanted her to be friends with you, and now she is.”

I stopped abruptly.  “You can see such things casually?”

“Oh, it isn’t hard,” he shrugged.  “I just do it.”

I regarded him carefully.  “You, my lad, have the makings of a very,
very
powerful wizard.  And perhaps a very dangerous man.”

“I don’t want to be dangerous,” he said, shaking his head.

“Really?  Most boys want to be dangerous.”

“I’ve seen dangerous boys.  They usually end up dead.”

“You make a compelling point.  So what do you want to be, Rudenal?”

He squished up his face and shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Until a few months ago I just wanted to eat and keep my mother safe.  Then I just wanted to stay alive.  Now . . . I still enjoy eating,” he said, in all seriousness, “but I’m starting to really like magic.  The exciting parts, like riding on hawks or going through the Ways.  Not the boring walking-around-talking-to-princesses parts.”

“So what do you think you’d like to do when you grow up?  Assuming you master magic, like you’re supposed to.”

“Doesn’t that mean I’m going to me a mage?”

“Well, there are magi, and then there are magi,” I pointed out.  “The Talent we’re given and the training we receive to make it useful make us magi, but what we do with those gifts is up to us.  Ideally, we use them to the best of our ability to make the lives of our fellow men better.  That’s what I do.  Conversely, we can exploit them to make money and gather power.”

“Don’t you do that, too?” he pointed out.

“Actually, yes,” I affirmed with a smile.  “The two are not mutually exclusive.  But you can be just about any kind of mage, from a beastmaster to a spellmonger to a scholar to a footwizard.  It all depends on your talent and your desire.”