The Fire Mages' Daughter (23 page)

“I think he, at least, is sincere,” Arran said. “I cannot see any deception in him. And he has made a big effort to get to know Zandara and Axandor, too. He and his father even wanted to see Zandara’s baby. I rather like him. Obviously, I am not terribly happy about the idea of Drina marrying anyone, but better this man rather than someone who sees her only as a means of political advantage.”

“Well, be on your guard, that’s all.” Cal said. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it one little bit.”

~~~~~

The Icthari visit drew to a close, and they prepared to return home. I had found excuses to avoid travelling with them, but they would only agree to a ten-sun’s delay. It was not much time to try to deduce what game they were playing, and to find a way around it.

Yannassia agreed that they had given in too easily. “I expected them to object to your drusse, at least,” she said. “There is the matter of children to be considered, and it is usual to impose strict restrictions. But you will have time when you are there to assess these people more fully. The language is a problem, but you will have your own interpreters. Do not rely on their translations.”

That was the moment when I should have told her of my strange ability. It would have set her mind at rest, if she had known. But I hated to admit to yet another bizarre ability that I couldn’t explain. I was weird enough already. And besides, she was surrounded by her nobles and mages and scribes and courtiers. It was just too public. I resolved to find a private moment before I left to tell her everything, as I should have done long since.

On the last night before the Icthari departure, Yannassia held a great feast. There were always a few such events throughout the year, but this was to be special. We were all to dress in our very best. Even Mother was persuaded into a gown for the occasion.

“What a fuss!” she grumbled. “No occasion is so grand that it requires a gown. The azai is much more elegant.”

“You look delightful, sweetheart,” Cal said, his eyes drifting to the low neckline.

“And that is exactly why an azai is more appropriate,” she murmured, tapping him reprovingly on one cheek with her fan. “No one takes a woman seriously dressed like this.”

I was seated with Yannassia’s brother, Yordryn, to one side of me, and Ghat to the other. Ghat’s father sat on his other side, to translate Ghat’s many compliments. He admired the feast chamber, the decorations, the music drifting down from a gallery, the silver and gold plate, the flowers adorning the tables. He tried every dish, and sipped all five kinds of wine provided. But he reserved his greatest praise for me: my gown, my hair, my jewels, my clear skin, my sparkling eyes, my lustrous hair all received their share of his attention. His eyes shone as he spoke, and his father translated every word faithfully, although with an occasional comment of his own.

“As you can see, Highness, my son is quite smitten with you,” he murmured.

“No lady minds such delightful compliments,” I said, with a smile. But I couldn’t help a glance down the table to where Arran sat watching me. He looked away as soon as I caught his eye, but my heart ached for him, an island of misery amongst the wine-fuelled merriment.

For relief from Ghat’s endless admiration, I turned to Yordryn for a while, but he was, as usual, sullen company. Once he had been a lively and intelligent man, so people said, but the illness that had killed his wife and son had affected him, too, and changed him. Or perhaps he was just overwhelmed with grief. He had sent away all his other children, by several drusse, and clung instead to Vhar-zhin, his sole remaining child by his wife. Even she could not lift his spirits, and although he had been the confirmed heir, when his father died the nobles had chosen Yannassia instead.

When I turned back to Ghat, he was deep in conversation with his father. He had no idea I could understand him, so he wasn’t bothering to lower his voice.

“…very pretty. And nicely built. Those tits! I can’t wait to get my hands around those.”

“You may have to wait, boy. These things take time.”

“The official things, maybe. But I’ll be spending a lot of time with her, and she’s not exactly shy, you know? She’s been around the campfire once or twice, if the reports are true. I’m sure I can get her to spread her legs.”

His father made an exasperated grunt. “When will you learn to think with your head instead of your fucking dick? Don’t lose sight of the plan.”

“I haven’t. Look, if I fuck her senseless, I can easily do the job while she sleeps.”

“And have everyone know who did it? Don’t be stupid. Fuck her if you must, but stick to the plan. The
whole
plan, mind you. That way we’ll get all the traitor’s spawn, in time, and no one will know.”

“But you’ve already started, haven’t you? That was a change of plan, wasn’t it?”

Just then, servants came to replenish the wine, and Ghat turned back to me with his ready smile.

It took all my years of training at Yannassia’s feet to smile back at him, to pretend there was nothing the matter.

To pretend I hadn’t just listened to them plotting my murder.

“But what else could it mean?” I hissed, trying to keep the panic out of my voice and not quite succeeding. “They want to kill me. I can’t see any other interpretation.”

Arran, Cal and Mother looked at me with anxious faces. I had pulled them into an alcove as soon as the meal was finished. A laughing group of nobles wandered past, eyeing us curiously.

“We can’t talk here,” Cal said, in a low voice. “But we can’t just walk out, either. What else is there after this – dancing?”

“No, nothing like that,” I said. “Some speeches in the assembly chamber, that’s all. We can escape after that. Let’s meet at our apartment.”

“No, the mages’ house,” Cal said. “There are wards on the doors and windows, and a lot of powerful deterrent magic. It’s safer there.”

I’d never seen him so serious.

~~~~~

“Tell us everything that was said,” Cal said an hour later, when we were settled in their rooms at the mages’ house. “Try to remember the exact words.”

I tried, but it was not easy. I was trained to detect subtle nuances of meaning and unspoken undercurrents, not to remember a conversation word for word, but I did my best.

They listened in silence.

Arran shook his head. “There is little room for misunderstanding. Do the job? And get all the traitor’s spawn? Clearly they want to remove all of you – Zandara and Axandor as well. All your father’s children.”

I let the discussion swirl around me. It pained me beyond measure to hear my father described so. A traitor! He was a hero to me and my country, but clearly the Ictharis felt differently about him. Perhaps they saw him as one of the Icthari who had become Bennamorian, a traitor because he had a different allegiance. But he had been born and raised in Bennamore, so it was hardly a surprise if his loyalties were different from theirs.

“What did they mean when they said they’d already started?” My mother’s clear voice cut through my introspection.

The answer was obvious. All at once I was overwhelmed by a driving sense of urgency.

I jumped up. “Zandara! Axandor! We must warn them – at once!”

No one argued with me. I turned and ran from the apartment. Heavy footsteps pounded behind me, but I didn’t turn to check who was following me. Zandara’s apartment was closer, so that was where I headed. Long before I reached her door, I slowed, winded and feeling the beginnings of exhaustion creeping up on me. I needed magic, but there was no time.

I reached the apartment, the guards springing aside for me, and pounded on the door, then leaned against the jamb to catch my breath. It seemed a long, long time before a servant opened it, peering out at me in bewilderment. I wasn’t surprised at that. Zandara and I had never had the sort of sisterly relationship that encompassed dropping in on each other close to midnight.

I pushed past him, forcing him to jump aside.

“Where is she? I must talk to Highness Zandara immediately!”

“Highness…” But he could see from my breathless impatience that I was not going to be denied. With a curt bow, he vanished into some inner fastness.

I paced about, then collapsed into a chair as my legs lost the will to move. Then jumped up and began pacing again. Cryalla and Arran had followed me, and, puffing, Cal arrived, too. Then, all in a group, Mother and the two mage guards. Mother took one look at me, and held her hand to my cheek. Her cool magic streamed into me, with its life-giving energy.

I had time only for a quick smile of thanks before an inner door opened. In the distance, the baby was crying, and from somewhere nearby came the sounds of music and bursts of laughter. Zandara was not at the party, however. She swept into the room, arrayed in a fearsomely elaborate night robe. I didn’t think it likely she was tending the baby, either, in such a costume. A wisp of silk covered the rags curling her hair. And all this time I’d thought her hair curled naturally.

“Whatever is the matter, Drina?” she said, her face cold. “Has someone died?” Her voice was as level as if she were enquiring after the grain quotas.

“Not yet,” I blurted. “But the Icthari are trying to kill us!”

“Us?”

“You, me and Axandor. They want us dead!”

“And you know this for a fact? How, exactly?”

I hesitated, still reluctant to admit to my ability with languages. “I overheard them. Look… I just think you should be on your guard, that’s all.”

She raised one artfully shaped eyebrow, her eyes falling first on her own bodyguard, his sword half-drawn, and then the door guards, the two I’d pushed aside, and another three, filling the open doorway with solid, muscled strength.

“Poison,” Mother said. “The Icthari are experts with poison.”

“They have had ample opportunity to poison us, if they so wished, Lady Mage,” Zandara said. “Besides, they will be leaving early tomorrow. I do not see any need for concern.”

There was not much else I could say. We left, with the baby still crying half-heartedly in the distance. I wondered what ailed him, to make him cry so long. As we passed through the entrance hall, I was startled to see two servants with the dark skin and thin noses of Icthari. They wore the symbols of long service, so they must be loyal to Zandara, but even so, I shivered to see them here.

Disheartened, we made our way to Axandor’s apartment at a slower pace. He was even less pleased to see us, since we had interrupted his bedroom activities.

“You are crazy, Drina,” was all he said, before stomping back to that night’s lady.

We gathered in the corridor, a little away from his door, to avoid our discussion being overheard by the guards. Although it hardly mattered. My behaviour would be the talk of the Keep before the first bell. Well, I was used to being outrageous.

“You have done all you can,” Mother said, patting my hand, giving me another tingle of magic.

“There is one more person who must be told,” I said firmly.

“Yannassia?” Cal said. “She will not be pleased. It must be long after midnight.”

“Nevertheless, I must tell her.”

Waking the Drashona was not a simple matter. Merely getting into the apartment took a level of negotiation normally reserved for cross-border trade agreements. Guards, night stewards, more guards, the bedchamber steward – all had to be convinced of the urgency of the matter. Then we had to wait for Yannassia, while servants plied us with food and drink, for all the world as if this were a casual afternoon appointment. I couldn’t sit, pacing restlessly back and forth, and helping myself to little bursts of magic from Cal and Mother to stem my exhaustion.

Eventually Yannassia came, her nightrobe elegant, her hair in a long braid down her back. Her face was icy. “This had better be important, Drina,” she said, as she arranged herself on a sofa. “I do
not
like being summoned from bed like this.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, perching on the edge of a chair. “But it
is
important. The Icthari are trying to kill us. Me, Axandor and Zandara, I mean. I overheard them talking about it at the banquet.”

“Who was talking about it?”

“Hal Ghat and Hal Torghesh.”

“They said this to you directly?”

“No, no. They were talking to each other.”

“But…?” Her forehead creased as she struggled to make sense of it.

I licked my lips. “Look, I can understand Icthari,” I said, leaning forward.

“Did you teach yourself? Clever of you.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just… an ability I have. It means I can understand everything they say. I don’t know why it works, but it does. And they want to kill us, they said. They called us the traitor’s spawn.”

Her brows snapped together at that, but she waved me to silence. “Lord Mage Cal, have you heard of such a talent before?”

“Before Drina mentioned it? No, never. It must be a rare gift.”

“Indeed.” Yannassia rose fluidly from her chair, and we all jumped up too. “Drina, if you do not wish to marry this young man, you have only to say so. Inventing tales of overheard conversations will not convince me.”

“She’s telling the truth!” Mother said sharply. “I would know. No one can lie to me, or to Cal.” She turned to him for support, and he nodded. “You see?”

“I see that she believes it,” Yannassia said. “That does not make it so. She is deluded. Perhaps she has misunderstood.”

“But it’s true,” I cried. “They are going to kill all three of us, I swear it!”

“We will talk further in the morning. For now I suggest you return to your apartment. Perhaps some moonrose leaves will help you sleep.”

“Moonrose—!” My mouth dropped open. “Yannassia, you must believe me! I heard them say it, as plain as I hear you. Truly, I—”

Her face darkened. “You are hysterical. Guards, see that Highness Axandrina leaves at once.”

She swept out, leaving me in tears.

~~~~~

The Icthari delegation left that morning, with many smiles and friendly words. Prince Torghesh kissed my hand. Prince Ghat kissed me on each cheek, his face smooth and warm against mine, his eyes shining as he looked at me. If I had not already had Arran in my heart, I might have been half way to falling in love with him.

And if I had not heard him planning to kill me, of course.

I smiled at him in return. Yannassia had trained me well, and I said and did all the right things. He gave no sign he noticed anything different about me.

Then we waved them away, just as rag-tag a group as when they’d arrived, but at least they had the proper escort this time. A small troop of Elite would accompany them to the border, and then they would be gone, vanished into the trackless void of Icthari territory. They had no proper roads there, no towns, no major settlements of any kind, just small villages dotted about. And somewhere in that vastness, these men would plan the fine details of my murder.

Nothing Arran, Mother or Cal could say brought me any comfort. Was I deluded? But I knew what I had heard, and I could see no other interpretation. I went over and over their words in my mind, until they began to blur and shift, and I couldn’t be sure of anything.

During the hours of sun, I moved in a dream through my duties – meetings, assemblies, receptions, visits and a thousand other little chores to fill the hours and stop me brooding. No one mentioned the incident. Yannassia was accomplished in the art of ignoring my more outrageous behaviour, and Axandor, absorbed in his own affairs, seemed to have forgotten it. Zandara was much occupied with her baby, who was still out of sorts, so she had no chance to gloat.

But at night, I could think of nothing else. I was more or less betrothed to a man who wanted me dead, and in a very short time, I would have to leave the safety of the Keep and join him in Icthari lands. Then I would have nothing to do but wait to be murdered. Poison, I guessed. Sooner or later, I would eat or drink something, and then I would die. But it wouldn’t be quick. Oh no. Not for me the single sip of wine, and then fall, clutching my throat and gagging, like a bad actor in a dramatic performance. No, because that would cast suspicion on the Icthari. It would be slow, so that I would gradually sicken, my body failing. Such a tragedy, they would say, as they brought word back to Kingswell. She was so young, too, and seemed so healthy.

It was hard to sleep with such ideas chasing each other round my head, so each night, after Arran had rolled away from me, I slipped out of bed, put on practical trousers and tunic, and went up to the roof. The night guard trailed silently up the stairs behind me, his face a picture of resigned acceptance of the ways of the nobility. I was glad I no longer had to keep my visits to the roof a secret, but I could have done without his glum presence.

He stood outside the door to the stairs, a position where he could watch whatever antics I got up to while still having the option to run for his life if my eagle got too close. Clearly he was terrified of her. It made me appreciate Cryalla’s bravery all the more. She hadn’t hesitated to protect me, even from a bird who was many times her size. Arran, too. I suspected they would fight a dragon, if one threatened me.

Sunshine’s mind always lit up with joy when I summoned her, and she would glide down from the top of the observation tower where she liked to perch, landing with graceful precision beside me. I was too dispirited even to want to fly, so I sat and buried my face in her soft feathers. She never complained about the tears I shed.

On the third night, Arran found me there in the cool dawn air, half dozing. “Sweetheart, come to bed,” he whispered, scooping me into his arms. “This is doing you no good.”

I was too tired to protest, and he carried me across the roof to the door to the stairs, the eagle bobbing along beside us, her great golden eye fixed on me.

We had just reached the stairs, and the guard was holding the door open when I heard, far off in the distance, a baby crying.

Such a common sound, heard scores of times throughout the night. Just another hungry baby, wanting his food. But the sound nudged something in my mind, something I’d known was not quite right, and suddenly all the pieces fell into place. It was like rubbing my eyes and having everything come into focus.