The Arcanist (13 page)

Not that that was necessarily something to be proud of. In fact it was embarrassing to have to speak of it at all. But at least it wasn't something for which a man should be reviled. Except maybe by Tyrel's handmaidens. 'Known defiler?' That did not sound good. And yet Tyrel had spared him, something he still did not completely understand. And she had known that he had defended some of the women of those same houses. It seemed almost certain to him that the hamadryad had a reason – but naturally not one that she or her handmaidens would share with him.

“Then there is your eldest sister Leona the Lamb?”

Mara looked across at him, silently asking if she had it right. Maybe challenging him too. He wasn't sure why, save that he doubted Leona would meet with their Mother's approval any more than the rest of them. Happily married to a man? That was probably a crime of some sort as far as Tyrel was concerned. He nodded to her.

“Leona of Vales. She has the love of the kingdom. Wed to Innosen of Vales and with two children, she is still considered the most lovely of all the women in the kingdom, and all men rush to defend her honour.”

More importantly she was one of the shining lights that restored a measure of dignity to House Barris. If Simon was a disgrace and Marcus a mixed blessing, Leona was an unquestioned boon. There was not a man or a woman in the realm who could say ill of her.

“And she is sweetness itself. A heart of outstanding kindness. A soul of purity and innocence. Her beauty shines from within.” Edouard thought he'd better add that. Too many might believe Leona's great beauty was the reason men fell at her feet. It wasn't. It was her great love. Her beauty stemmed from that.

“Next then is Lord Edouard here, the Owl.”

“Owl?” Kyriel looked surprised.

“Edouard Severin of the House of Barris at your service. Too serious by half and too well studied too I'm often told.” Edouard managed a small bow, something that wasn't easy to do when he was seated.

It was true. He was bookish as they said. And he assumed that that was what he hoped drove people to call him the owl. But in any case there were worse things a man could be called. And he wasn't too happy with his other appellation. The Tinker simply didn't strike him as particularly respectful. Though he supposed it was what people saw of him as he spent his days playing in his workshop and crafting strange mechanical devices. He worried sometimes that they knew him for what he actually was mostly; a dilettante and idler.

Still, that was better than many of his peers. The fortunes of birth had relegated him to a life of quiet uselessness, but he filled his days without bringing shame to the family name. He did not gamble, drink or womanise like so many others. He had not taken up the unfortunate habit of passing out in the alehouses or on the streets. And though he did not dress as Simon, he always managed to appear neat and tidy in public. He lived up to his responsibilities.

Edouard decided to continue the family history himself as the younger children were less well known.

“Then comes my younger sister April Severin, the Mouse. She is small of form, quiet and pious and carrying equal measures of seriousness and excitability both. She will soon take her vows as a priestess to the Temple of Light. Like me she has the spark, though in her case it is the spark of dominion. Unlike me she chooses not to explore it. Instead she feels drawn to the holy.”

That troubled him a little. Not her piousness, her refusal to explore her gift. With her spark he would have played with it night and day, commanding all the animals he could find to do his bidding. To hide it away and forget it existed seemed wrong to him. Wasteful.

“April is a humble soul but one day I expect, she will rise to become the head of whichever order she joins. She is bright and dedicated, and has always given generously to all of the Seven.”

Too generously in his view. Left to her own devices she would have nothing, choosing to give it all away. Yet it wasn't a fault he could denounce. And again like Leona, she was always a credit to the dignity of the house.

“And last, for the moment, there's Thomas the Terrier. He is young yet, only fifteen, but he was born with a great energy. Far more than normal. He can run like the wind, and he climbs everything in sight, and never seems to slow down. In fact sitting still may be the only thing he can't do.”

“For the moment?” Kyriel asked the somewhat embarrassing question. Or at least it would seem so to her. Edouard had lived through the embarrassment all his life, so it caused him no great bother any longer.

“Our father has wed six wives and has six children by them. Each marriage lasts only a few years. Just long enough it seems to father another child. Then it's off to the lord justices for another divorce and then the hunt for a new wife begins. Always too it seems, for a younger wife.”

For a while they had thought – they had hoped – that it was over. That the ram had given up his marrying ways. After Thomas had been born to Derys there had been a long period where their father had married no one. Thomas was now fifteen with no younger siblings. But then along had come Cassandra and the cycle had started again.

“Three months ago he wed for the seventh time, to a young woman by the name of Cassandra of House Foren, and there are whispers that she is already with child. He has just passed his seventy second birthday by the way, and she has not yet turned twenty.”

Which meant that his stepmother was in fact ten years younger than him. Though that wasn't what bothered him so much. He actually quite liked Cassandra. He'd even tried to help her find her place in the family. It was the image of her and his father sharing intimacies that tore at his sensibilities. She was a young woman with her whole life ahead of her. His father though still in rude good health, was at a very different stage of life.

“And so in due course a new child of the House will be born. And the wits will find a new name for him or her. My father will soon have children younger than his grandchildren, and that child will have nephews and nieces older then him or her and the bards will never stop making up bawdy songs about it.”

There was a reason that his father was often known as the Ram. It should have been an embarrassment – it had been for many years, especially whenever he visited an alehouse – but these days it was just a fact of life. Edouard had become used to being privately mocked.

And in all honesty the reason House Barris was often the subject of derision began with his father, not the children. Left Hand to the king he most certainly was, and he did a fine job of keeping the kingdom running smoothly. But always his personal failings would be mentioned in the same breath as his achievements by those who spoke of him. And when he passed the scandal would probably not end. Edouard had long believed that Marcus more than any others of his children shared the same character as their father and would share the same sort of life. The bards would never run short of seedy tales to tell thanks to the two of them.

“Is it not also said that the Count never truly leaves his wives? That they continue to live with him after the marriage has ended?”

Edouard groaned quietly. He had heard that charge many times before. Too often in the alehouses and taverns when the cider was flowing and the bards were looking for some coins to be tossed their way. They made up endless songs about the Ram and his flock. In fact the bards were fond of using the word harem.

“It is said, but it is not true. Or at least not in the way that the wits would suggest. The divorces are final. The justices' demands satisfied. However Barris' Estate is a large walled ground with several buildings, and the manor house itself has four wings and four levels. The divorces are amicable and because our father chooses for his children to be raised by their mothers but never to be far from his side, each of the ex-wives has her own private quarters.”

That being true Edouard knew that there was some occasional bed hopping in the house between the Count and his ex-wives. In fact he was certain that his own mother Laurine had occasionally sought out his father's bed since the divorce. It made for some indelicate conversations around the dining table from time to time. Another reason he had decided to make a home for himself elsewhere.

“But you have not married?”

Kyriel surprised him with her question. Not simply because it was obvious that he had no wife. No woman of station would live in a fort as rough as his. But because he would have thought that she would understand his station in life. He was a minor son. He would not inherit. And therefore his value as a husband to the other houses was negligible. On top of that his father would have to approve any marriage he might consider. And the Ram would approve of very few. Not unless they served the purposes of the House of Barris. Which was why he had been upset when his eldest daughter had wed a mere soldier behind his back.

“It has not been my lot in life.” Edouard put it simply, not wanting to go into the details of his personal life. Or the tragedy. Some days he thought he would like to have a wife. Maybe even children. But he knew that was not to be his destiny. Not a wife he would be permitted to choose for himself anyway. And besides, what woman would accept him as he was?

“An interesting family.”

Kyriel, perhaps guessing his discomfort, turned the conversation away from where it had been going with her comment. But she wasn't completely successful. Nor was her choice of words convincing. Interesting was a polite word Edouard thought. Scandalous would have been a more honest one.

“A family of both great achievements and a few unfortunate flaws.” It was the only way Edouard had ever found to describe them and it was probably woefully inadequate. But how else would you describe them? Certainly Edouard had never found another way.

However he was tired of having his family discussed for the moment. And since his guests seemed to be in a talkative mood, he wondered if he might finally get a few of his own questions answered.

“But surely that is true of many families. Not least the family of Lady Tyrel. Demonesses, dryads and Tenarri? I had not realised that her handmaidens were being drawn from so many peoples and so far afield.”

“A criticism?”

Kyriel smiled sweetly at him and he immediately knew he was getting no answers from her this evening. Typical. They came and stayed with him for some open ended period of time, pushing the boundaries of good manners, but he didn't complain. They cast aspersions on his family and his life, and he said nothing. But ask a simple question and suddenly he was in the wrong. Then again maybe it hadn't been such a subtle question after all.

“Never! An observation only.” Edouard knew he had overstepped, however slightly, and that there would be no point in continuing the conversation. From this point on it could only go downhill. He had spent enough time in the company of the two women to know that. Marcus wouldn't care about such things. In fact he didn't, and he was normally happy to push his questions until the two women retired for the night. Edouard sometimes envied that directness in him. But he couldn't be so bold in such things, and he knew that the longer they spoke the more he would end up apologising for his words. He was getting tired of that. But no more he discovered was he in the mood to be belittled or judged. Not in his own home. Not again.

Edouard sighed quietly. Despite his wishes to simply enjoy an easy conversation and a pleasant evening it wasn't going to happen. Instead it was going to be as awkward and uncomfortable as any conversation he'd ever had while he'd lived under the roof of the family manor. And there was a reason he no longer lived there.

It was at that point that Edouard realized that discretion was the better part of valour, and decided to say goodnight. It had been a long day and the following one looked like being even longer as it looked like he would have to hire new servants as well as once more report to the king that he had found nothing at the site. He was getting tired of that as well.

In time he thought as he climbed the stairs, all this would be done with. The mammoths would be safe in their new home, the women could return to their temple, and life could return to how it had been. Boring perhaps as he found himself alone with his thoughts once more. But easy. He didn't have to worry about what he said. He didn't have to mind his manners. He yearned for those simpler times and he knew they would soon be returning.

It was simply a matter of time until he could once more return to his life of quiet uselessness.