Point of Hopes (62 page)

“
Ah. And why not just tell Hanse
that?” Denizard asked still pleasantly. “I’m sure—something—could
be worked out.”

“
But the people he sent…we sent
them back to him with just that message, begging his patience and
understanding. Are you saying he never received word?” Timenard
blinked at her in what looked like genuine puzzlement.

Denizard turned a crust of bread between her
fingers. “No,” she said choosing her words carefully. “Not
precisely. As I told the maseigne when we arrived, only one
messenger returned to Astreiant, and he was attacked and nearly
killed on the road south.”

De Mailhac and Timenard exchanged looks, and the
magist laid his hand briefly on the noble’s where it lay on the
tablecloth. Rathe, watching closely, couldn’t be sure if the magist
meant to comfort or to warn her.

“
But that’s—dreadful,” Timenard
said. “What must he think of us, of matters here? He must surely
think maseigne is trying to renege on—as you say—a pledge of honor,
and that is not to be borne.”

“
After last summer…” Denizard said,
and let the words hang in the air. “You can understand our
concern.”

Eslingen cleared his throat. “We understood that the
mines did well enough for you to have spent the Spring Balance at
court, maseigne. And that’s not a cheap proposition.”

Timenard’s face flushed pink, his bright blue eyes
wide and a little angry, and de Mailhac’s eyes fell. The old magist
frowned at her, and looked at Eslingen.

“
I’m delighted Master Caiazzo’s
people are so well informed, but they don’t, perhaps, know
everything.”

De Mailhac stirred, seemed about to speak, and
Timenard turned to her, continuing earnestly, “Please, maseigne,
you must let me explain to them, it’s likely the only thing that
will satisfy your associate.”

De Mailhac lifted a hand in permission—or was it
acquiescence? Rathe wondered—and Timenard gave her a half bow,
turned to speak to Denizard. “As I said, we fully understand the
constraints the lack of gold must place on Master Caiazzo, but,
also as I said, it has been completely unavoidable. Yes, maseigne
visited the court at the Spring Balance, but the reason will, I
hope, appease you and Master Caiazzo.”

Denizard inclined her head. “I hope so, too, Magist
Timenard. I most sincerely hope so.”

“
Maseigne understands the
obligation she is under to Caiazzo, rest assured of that, and it
was because of this obligation that she attended the queen this
spring past. There is, just to the east of this land, an open
parcel on which, it is likely, are further deposits, enough to
satisfy both Caiazzo and the requirements of managing an estate
such as Mailhac. Maseigne petitioned the queen to extend Mailhac’s
seigneurial rights to that parcel.”

“
I see.” Denizard sounded almost
suspiciously demure. “And did Her Majesty grant this
petition?”

“
It’s still under advisement,”
Timenard conceded, a trifle stiffly. “We expect a decision by the
Fall Balance.”

“
That’s rather late for the trading
season, surely,” Eslingen murmured in a tone of silken menace, and
Rathe, despite himself, hid a smile. This was a very different
Eslingen from the one who had been Devynck’s knife.

“
Entirely too late for bankers’
comfort,” b’Estorr agreed.

“
But there seems to be little or
nothing either Maseigne de Mailhac or Magist Timenard are capable
of doing about it,” Denizard said, and managed to make it a mild
rebuke.

De Mailhac spread her hands, “I wish there were
something I could do, Aicelin, truly. I know Hanselin to be an
honorable man, and I have appreciated his forbearing these few
months. If there were any way I could supply his needs—and my
obligation—then please believe I would.”

Denizard smiled gravely. “I have to, maseigne, and
will certainly take your word to Caiazzo, though I’m sure you’ll be
willing to show me your plans in more detail—perhaps a visit to the
mine, or to this new land, would be in order.” This time, Rathe was
sure he saw fear flare in the landame’s eyes, but Denizard
continued without hesitation. “In any case, I know he’ll be
relieved to hear of the possibility of redress.”

“
The mine itself is always
dangerous ground, no one goes there,” de Mailhac began, and
Timenard cut her off, his voice riding over whatever else she would
have said.

“
But the miners are competent,
maseigne. I’m sure something can be arranged.”

De Mailhac’s smile looked forced, but she murmured
something that was obviously meant for agreement. The rest of the
dinner passed in polite conversation, and when the foursome excused
themselves, pleading the day’s travel, the landame nodded and
managed to look only mildly relieved. Timenard rose with them, his
earlier good nature evidently restored by the rich red wine. He
summoned servants to light them to their rooms, and wished them a
cheerful good night from the bottom of the main staircase, but
Rathe could feel his eyes on them as they climbed toward their
rooms.

Once the servants had left, the four gathered again
in Denizard’s room, and Rathe prodded moodily at the dying fire.
Outside the shuttered window, the wind was rising, soughing through
the trees above the manor house.

“
Someone’s lying, in a big way,”
Denizard said after a moment, and b’Estorr nodded. He crossed to
the window and pulled the shutters aside, staring out into the half
light. The weather was breaking, Rathe saw over the other man’s
shoulder, the clouds were shredding to reveal patches of sky and
what was left of the winter-sun’s light. It was another hour or two
to the second sunset, he thought, and realized with some surprise
that he hadn’t seen a clock in any of the rooms.

“
Obviously, but they said so much,
and so little, where’s the exact lie?” Eslingen asked. “I don’t
believe the mines are played out, not the way that table was set
and provisioned, not with gold about the only means of support for
an estate like this—does this look like good farmland to any of
you?”

“
Well, one thing they’re lying
about,” Rathe said, “is her stay at court. Or the reason for it.”
He got up, went to join b’Estorr at the window. “Look, I served the
Judge-Advocate Foucquet when I was a boy, I’ve seen cases like
this. There is no way either the law, or the queen, for that
matter, would permit a petty Ile’nord ladyling”—his voice was
savage—“to extend her rights to free land. And even if the law
permitted it, Her Majesty wouldn’t countenance it.” He remembered
standing behind Foucquet in the great hall of the Tour, watching
the queen with adolescent awe. She was a tall woman anyway, and her
anger at a southern noble who was seeking much the same kind of
extension de Mailhac said she sought had only seemed to make her
taller. Nobles, she said could learn to live within their means,
certainly within their lands. She would set no potential strife in
motion by increasing holdings that had been sufficient and more
than sufficient for generations. Free land was just that, and would
remain so, for the use of people who farmed or herded for
themselves alone, or their families.

Denizard nodded. “I agree. I doubt Her Majesty would
extend de Mailhac’s rights in any case, and certainly not over
mining land, but I don’t know how much it helps us.” She looked at
b’Estorr. “I don’t suppose you recognized this Timenard?”

The necromancer shook his head. “I didn’t see a
badge, either.”

“
What exactly does that mean?”
Eslingen asked, and b’Estorr looked at him.

“
It could mean any number of
things. The main one is, we can’t tell what his training is—or was,
since if he’s making aurichalcum on this scale he’s definitely
stepped outside the bounds of any legitimate school. And that means
we can’t be sure what he’s capable of.”

“
You know,” Denizard said slowly,
“I think he was already here in the spring, when I was. He didn’t
wear a magist’s robe then, and I didn’t pay much attention to
him—he certainly wasn’t being introduced to the honored guests at
that point. But I’m almost sure I saw him.”

Eslingen grimaced. “Well, one thing’s for certain,
Malivai was right. It’s him who calls the tune here now. It’s
subtle, but when it comes to it, he makes the decisions.”

Rathe nodded. “And I think they were lying about not
having heard about the children. She was, certainly, I’m sure she
knew they were missing.”

Denizard sighed. “I agree.”

“
I did wonder why you’d mentioned
that,” Eslingen said.

“
I thought it would be more
suspicious if we didn’t,” Rathe answered. “Timenard’s agents must
have warned him that the city was upset, common folk like me would
be bound to have it on their minds, to the exclusion of more
important matters.”

Denizard grinned. “He does think well of himself,
doesn’t he? I haven’t seen so many airs and graces since I was last
at court myself—and I’ll bet he’s lower born than any of us.”

Eslingen said slowly, “He’s not what I was
expecting, I must say. Are—do you really think he’s behind all
this?”

Now that it was said Rathe was suddenly angry, and
knew that the anger was masking his own uncertain fear. He
swallowed hard, trying to still his instinctive response, said, “He
calls the tune here, just like your messenger said. There’s no gold
though there’s enough money for them to live remarkably well, and
de Mailhac, for one, didn’t want us to go to the mine. That’s
enough—with everything else, that’s enough for me.”

“
There’s more than that,” b’Estorr
said, and turned away from the window at last. “Did you notice—did
anyone see or hear a clock strike in this house since we’ve gotten
here?”

Eslingen blinked. “Now that you mention it,” he
began, and in the same moment, Rathe shook his head.

“
I was noticing that, actually.
Why—?” He stopped then, remembering the clocks in Astreiant
striking the wrong hours, too soon, too late, time and the world
suddenly askew, at odds with each other. “You think he was
responsible for the clock-night.”

b’Estorr sighed. “I don’t know if he did that. But
aurichalcum is a potent metal—it’s one of the few things in the
world that’s strong enough to affect a well-made clock. If he’s
mining and manipulating it in quantity, it would certainly throw
off the household’s timepieces. And I think it would ultimately be
less suspicious to get rid of the clocks than to try to explain why
they were running badly.”

“
There were clocks here last
summer,” Denizard said. “Handsome ones—an old one that had to be an
heirloom, and a very nice modem case-clock up in the gallery, at
least from what I saw. They weren’t here this spring. I thought
she’d just sold them for the money, but now….”

“
What in Dis’s name can he want
with that much aurichalcum?” b’Estorr muttered, and no one
answered.

After a moment, Rathe said, “I suppose our next step
is to go to the mine, see if the kids are there.”

“
What we need to do,” b’Estorr
said, and kicked the edge of the hearth, “is to put paid to his
plans, whatever they are. And the one sure way to do that is to
pollute the mine.”

Rathe looked at him. “I may not want to know this,
but how do we do that?”

b’Estorr took a breath. “Oh, it’s fairly easy. The
mere presence of adults—worldly wise, probably inappropriately
born—in the mine itself will taint the gold and spoil the whole
process.” There was a small silence, the fire hissing in the grate.
Rathe stared at the coals, trying to imagine getting into a mine
without being seen.

“
What about the children?” he said
aloud, and b’Estorr gave him an unhappy glance.

“
If Timenard is mining aurichalcum,
creating it in this kind of quantity—he’s put his hands on a source
of power that frightens me. It’s the kind of power, at least in
potential, that moves mountains, and I mean that literally. You saw
what it was like at Wicked’s, and his power will only have
increased from then. The children are less important than stopping
whatever it is he’s doing, Nico. I’m sorry, but it’s
true.”

Rathe shook his head wanting to deny the other’s
words, but stopped by the note in the necromancer’s voice, by his
own memories. “We can’t just leave them,” he said and Eslingen
cleared his throat.

“
We can’t make any real plans until
we know what conditions are like at the mine. We might be able to
pollute it and get the children free at the same time.”

b’Estorr said quietly, “Of course, the only problem
then is that getting out of Mailhac, with or without eighty-five
children, may be rather difficult.”

“
Are magists always given to
understatement?” Eslingen asked.

Rathe shook his head. “Well, but something like this
is what we have the sur’s warrant for. We use it. We send for
Coindarel’s regiment.”

“
To, basically, attack an Ile’nord
holding? Will he come?” Denizard asked and Eslingen smiled, spoke
before Rathe could reply.

“
I think I can send a message with
the warrant that will bring him. Coindarel has, I think, probably
more quarterings than maseigne here.”

“
If you can, Philip,” Rathe began,
and Eslingen help up a hand.

“
I can.”

“
So we’re agreed then,” Rathe said
and looked at b’Estorr. “If we send for Coindarel now, we’ll
have—what, three, maybe four hours to do what we have to before he
can get here with his troop. That should give you time to do what
you need to do with the mine, and at the same time, give us a
chance to get the kids into some temporary shelter.”