High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series (21 page)

“I already have someone on it,” I said, truthfully.

“Or the string of petitions to restore nobility to every mage of noble descent who can write that have flooded the capital.  Magic and politics always mix.  It’s
how
they mix that’s the question.  If you and I,” she said, staring at me intently, “can manage it, we may come to some permanent understanding.   As to that . . . I
do
have a favor to ask.”

“What may I help your Majesty with?”

“It would be very advantageous if a witchstone found its way into Mistress Argastina’s hand,” she said, as if she were asking to borrow a horse for a day, not hand someone untold power. 

“And just who is Mistress Argastina?” I asked.  I’d never heard of her.

“She’s the eldest daughter of old Count Argolan.  She came down with the Talent before she could be wed, poor girl, and suffered an apprenticeship before getting her mage’s papers.  Now she’s the court wizard of some baron, somewhere, but her brother has been pressuring me to raise her.”

“Is she any good?”

“How should
I
know?” she demanded.  “I cannot take the measure of a mage any more than I could judge hogs.  And who cares?  Her family holds the keys to the central Riverlands, and having them firmly on our side would be invaluable.  I’ve offered lands and titles, but they want a witchstone . . . and a restoration of nobility for Argastina.”

I thought about the sudden bounty of irionite I had, and was glad that I’d elected to keep it a secret.  “Witchstones are not baubles, Majesty.  They are rare and precious, and cannot be put lightly into anyone’s hands.”  I saw her wrinkle up her brow and prepare herself for an assault.  The Queen was not used to being told no.  “That being said,” I added, before she could reply, “I am always on the lookout for worthy magi to elevate.  If I meet the lady, and she is of sound mind and goodly Talent, then perhaps a stone of lesser power could be found.”

“I don’t care if you give her a glass bead and a pat on the head, just find her something!  Count Argolan is a tired old coot, but his son Argrendon plays politics amongst the Riverlords like a master.  He’s already been stretching his muscles in the new regime, never quite declaring for the crown, never quite advocating open rebellion.  And he’s just one of a dozen power-hungry wolves sniffing around the legs of the throne.”

“I will see if a bone cannot be dropped,” I agreed, quietly, “And I understand that a similar favor will be accorded to the Order by the Crown, when asked?”

“That is the way the game is played, Spellmonger,” she nodded.  “Since you do not want to help us in southern Alshar . . .”

“You know my thoughts on that, Majesty,” I said, warningly.  Fighting goblins was one thing.  Fighting against the King’s human feudal enemies was another.  I had expressed a strong reluctance – all right, a straight refusal – about the subject after the battle of Cambrian, and I hadn’t changed my mind.  That was just the sort of political trap I wanted the Order to avoid.  “Getting magi involved in an entanglement like that would serve no one.”

“So you say.  Though your assistance in Alshar would be invaluable, if your conscience does not permit it I will not insist.  I have other tools at my disposal.  But that does not mean I do not value your wisdom and counsel, Minalan. I would like for you and your lady wife to join us at a small court ceremony and banquet this evening while you are in town.”

I was confused.  “Why?”

“We would like to officially recognize you for your valor at Cambrian.  Many have presented petitions to see you honored, and politically it’s a good thing.”

Cambrian seemed like such a long time ago, but I realized it had been but half a year since we had slain the dragon.  “Majesty, I have received honors enough for that—”

“Yet the crown would be remiss if the Magelord of Sevendor visited the court and was not honored,” she insisted.  “And the great nobles we fear will rebel will see us as ungrateful and unworthy of support.  Between the Moros situation and the dynastic squabble over County Insmere, we have to show everyone that the crown cares, and knows how to reward its most trusted . . . and successful servants.  Just a token, mind, but while you’re here . . .”

“Majesty, I am honored!” I said, bowing at the waist. 

“If you must be.  You will not be the only one there to appear before the throne, I assure you.  We have about two of these bloody things a week, now,” she said, sounding weary. 

Chapter Eight

Investiture

“A
royal
banquet?” Alya asked, her eyes as wide as wagon wheels the moment I told her – casually – about the evening’s activities.  It was not the reaction I was expecting.  “
Tonight?!
  Ishi’s sodden twat, Minalan, what are you trying to
do
to me?” she said, bursting into tears.

“Huh?” I asked, not understanding in the slightest what the problem was.  Alya just glared at me, like I had insulted her.  “What’s the matter?  I thought you would enjoy seeing the palace, meeting the King and Queen—”

“Dear gods, you have lost your mind,” Pentandra said from the doorway.  Her eyes were almost as big as Alya’s.  “You just told your wife she has mere hours –
hours!
– to prepare herself for a formal state dinner with the most important people in the Kingdom. 
At the palace
.”

That was, as far as I knew, exactly what I had said.  Only I didn’t see how that was tantamount to torturing my bride.  “So what is the problem?”

“
What is she supposed to wear?
” Pentandra demanded in a tone like a condemning lawbrother.  “This is a formal state function, meeting the head of state . . . and you have given her
no
warning,
no
notice,
no
time to prepare . . .”

“Oh, dear gods I’m
done
for!” Alya said, still in tears. “
Nothing
I brought from home will work, and I haven’t had time to have something made . . .”

“Minalan, you are such an
idiot!
” Penny spat.

“It wasn’t my idea!” I defended.  “The queen insisted!”

“That is just like her,” Penny fumed, her eyes narrowing to slits as she contemplated Grendine and thoughts of regicide.  “All right, this is
not
a disaster,” she said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself.  “Because I will not allow it to be.  Alya, to my quarters, now.  I’ll have Dilva run a bath, and while you’re bathing I’ll start on the dress.  We’ll have to go with slippers, but—
you
,” she added, as she ushered Alya out of our chamber, “you just wear your formal robes of office.  You can’t mess that up.”

“But Penny,” I pleaded.  “What did I . . . this is just dinner,” I pointed out.  “Not even a full court—”

“This is your
wife
being presented at Royal Court,” Penny corrected me sharply.  “Alya is the wife of the Spellmonger, the Lady of the Mageland of Sevendor.  She must look the part,” she said, defiantly.  “To do otherwise would shame her as a noblewoman and make a mockery of her in public!”

“So what is the Lady of Sevendor supposed to look like?” I asked, but they were already gone.

Come to find out, she looks stunning.

I don’t know how precisely they pulled it off, but when Alya came downstairs from our quarters when our carriage arrived, she was resplendent.  Her hair had been trimmed and braided with silver cord and piled into an elaborate style, a simple circlet of silver at her brow.  She wore the glowing emerald I’d given her on a chain around her neck.  Her gown . . . I don’t know where Pentandra found it.  It wasn’t hers.  Penny and Alya aren’t even close to the same size.  But it was gray and green and if fit her like a glove.  She had shed some weight since Almina’s birth, and the gown hugged those curves in some interesting places.

She was displaying far more cleavage than I’d thought possible, even after nursing a baby.  Someone highly skilled had applied her cosmetics, leaving her lips blood-red and her eyes fascinatingly painted.  Her summer mantle was of silver cloth, and pinned with a silver snowflake at her throat.  She wore elegant cloth slippers of the same gray as the dress.

But Pentandra was not satisfied with Alya merely being beautiful – the Lady of Sevendor was the wife of the Spellmonger, and some manifestation of that special position had to be evident.  So she enchanted Alya’s circlet so that it appeared that she was walking around in a constant snowfall. 

Out of the corner of your eye you would see the flakes appear over her head and then float lazily to the floor, where they vanished. To make it even more compelling, she added a spell that made the air in a bubble around Alya noticeably cooler, cool enough so that you could see your breath.  I’m sure that was a welcome relief to Alya – that dress looked warm, and it was early summer.   It was an impressive feat of illusion and thermomantics, and the over-all effect was breathtaking. 

I wore my formal robes as head of the Arcane Orders, although I swapped the silly hat for a little cap-of-maintenance circlet that matched Alya’s.  Where Pentandra procured them on such short notice was as great as the mystery of Alya’s gown.   I chose my dark green woolen mantle with the Snowflake of Sevendor stitched upon its back, a gift from Yule.  Instead of letting my sphere levitate behind me, I affixed it to the end of my ostentatious-looking staff-of-office, where it glowed the same tone as Alya’s emerald.  I also wore an elaborate snowstone pendant, one Master Guri had given me to replace the one we’d used to help slay the dragon.  We looked like a matched set. 

“You . . . look beautiful!” I said, truthfully.  “Ishi’s precious lips, I’m glad I’m married to you!”

That was the right thing to say for once, Min
, Pentandra agreed, mind-to-mind.

If I can learn Alka Alon, I can learn about women,
I countered as I offered Alya my arm.

Don’t count on it,
she said, discouragingly.

“You look very lordly,” Alya said, looking serene.  Far too serene.

Calming spell,
Pentandra added
.  She requested it.  To soothe her jitters.  I figured that was a safer bet than liquor.

Thank you, I replied.  For everything, Penny.  Thank you.

It was fun,
she admitted
.  Like being sisters, almost.  If I didn’t happen to hate my sister.  I gave her a quick course in court etiquette, we covered proper forms of address, and I explained how she should behave to best reflect on you.

That covers a lot of territory
, I said, as I helped Alya into the splendid carriage we’d hired for the occasion. 

I was concise.  Brutally so.  She’s not invulnerable, but she won’t act like a country peasant from the Alshari Wilderlands, which is what she was most afraid of.  Just . . . treat her gently.  This is a lot to ask of her.

If I could keep her away from the vicious old bitch, I would.

You can’t
, agreed Pentandra,
Nor should you try.  That would be unfair to Alya.  Being the Spellmonger’s wife, the Lady of Sevendor means she gets to meet royalty and dine at the palace and tell all her friends all about it.  She gains status from her association.  She can’t be protected from it, nor should she.  Don’t worry about her.  Once I explained the basics, she caught on quickly.  Mostly she’ll talk about her dress, her lovely home, and the horrible siege of Boval Castle.  She’ll know what to do.

Penny . . . just what did you do to her?
I asked.

What?  Nothing permanent.  Trust me
, she urged. 
Now go have a good time.

“Were you talking to Pentandra?” Alya asked me, when it was clear I was aware of my surroundings again.

“Uh . . . yes, she was filling me in about how she prepared you for the banquet tonight.  Quite remarkable,” I said, pointing at an imaginary snowflake as it fell through the carriage.  Ayla smiled brilliantly.  Too brilliantly.  Pentandra had used a glamour spell.  No one who wasn’t a mage would know it, but Alya’s smile was artificially captivating.  I smiled in return, but not for the same reasons.

“You can only imagine,” she sighed.  “It was a wonder, Min, the way she ordered three serving maids – three! – to tend to me.  One on my face, one on my hands, one for my wardrobe.  All the while she was casting spells and ordering two more servants to fetch things for her.  And she was teaching me court manners, or at least enough to fake my way through the evening.”

“You can trust Penny’s instincts,” I nodded.  “Just restrain yourself.”

“Restrain myself?” she asked, confused.

“Try not to be too beautiful.  I could stand the resentment from the ladies of the court, but I’d really prefer to avoid any duels with the gentlemen of the court, if I could.”

She blushed at the compliment.  I think.  The glamour and the cosmetics were obscuring it, but she looked adorable.

“I will not fail you, my husband,” she assured me, as we rumbled across the cobbles toward the palace.