The Fire Mages' Daughter (28 page)

“The snatching is not of my doing,” I said quietly.

“It hardly matters. You are her only serious rival at the moment, and she is a devious little schemer. Far worse than I ever was. So watch out for her, that is all.”

For almost a ten-sun, Ly-haam’s summoning went on, for some unfathomable purpose. During the hours of sun, I barely noticed it, with so many activities to distract me. But at night, in the quiet darkness, it throbbed in my mind like a beating heart, calling me, calling me. When I slept, I dreamt of walking towards it. When I first woke, it pulled me out of bed with a sense of great urgency, until I remembered.

Then it stopped, as suddenly as it began. That made me even more uneasy. Now I felt as if I were waiting for a volcano to erupt. We had no volcanoes in Bennamore, but there were some in the Sky Mountains, and travellers had seen such things, and recorded them. The books told of rumblings in the earth beneath a mountain. The rumblings gradually ceased, but then the whole mountain exploded in fire and burning stone. I wasn’t quite sure what was about to explode, but I felt certain that something would. Yannassia sent a second, more urgent message to the High Commander.

But the suns and ten-suns passed by, and no eruption came, and then the Nobles’ Council was upon us. They held meetings formally twice a year, in spring and autumn, and traditionally they were lacklustre affairs, caught up in their own petty squabbling. But this was the first time in many years that they would decide the Drashona’s heirs, and the importance of the occasion drew minor nobles from every corner of Bennamore.

It seemed that every one of them wanted to host a ball or an entertainment or a grand banquet, to which I was invited. Yet every acceptance pleased only one noble house, while offending several more. I would have been happy to hide in my apartment with Arran until a decision had been made and it was safe to emerge.

Fortunately, Yannassia took charge of me. Now that she had made her choice, she liked me to accompany her whenever possible, so it was the Drashona doing the offending, and not me. I didn’t mind that. And when she chose to stay home, she had the perfect excuse in her pregnancy, and I got to spend the evening with my family.

This was rather bigger than it had been, since Mother and Cal had decided to settle at Kingswell and had sent for Markell and Sallorna. The replacement mages sent to Zendronia temporarily liked it there and were happy to stay.

“To be honest,” Mother said, “people were always a bit wary of me. They like the regular mages with their hand-waving and chanting, but I only have to touch people to heal them. And the other things – blessings and spells for good crops and so on – that’s just ordinary spellpage work. Anyone can do that.”

“You have to give people a bit of a performance,” Cal said, his eyes twinkling. “They pay good silver for a spell, they like value for their coin.”

“Pfft,” Mother said. “Magic is serious, it’s not for entertainment. Anyway, I can be more use here. Looking after Drina. And Yannassia, of course.”

Now that Yannassia had made her choice for heir, a clear divide opened up: Yannassia and me on one side, and Zandara and Axandor on the other. Vhar-zhin took no interest, and Hethryn, although he clearly had his own ideas, cleverly kept them to himself.

Yannassia liked me to join her for the first hour of the sun, while she shared her morning brew with Torthran. Arran was invited along too, and somehow the presence of the two men relaxed the atmosphere. It felt quite homely, the four of us squeezed around that tiny little table beside the window. Yannassia was charmingly girlish, smiling and teasing Torthran, and almost affectionate with me. I’d never seen her like this. It struck me that if she’d unbent this way towards me when I’d first arrived in Kingswell, I would have been less desperate to leave. She was almost motherly.

But there was business talk as well. “You must not be afraid of the Council,” she said one morning. “This is the final stage, and it is very much a formality. They have all decided how they will vote long since. We just have to be patient.”

“Will they accept Drina, do you think, Highness?” Arran asked.

“I cannot say. I have done all I can, but it is out of my hands now. It is not necessarily forever, whatever they decide. It is just a part of a long process, which will go on until I die, and the matter absolutely has to be resolved.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “There will be a formal presentation. I have to produce all the eligible heirs for inspection. But not Yordryn.” She sighed. “He really is not well. He was such an
intelligent
man, it is such a tragedy. But there it is.”

“What is it that ails him?” I said. “Perhaps my mother could cure him?”

“It has been tried,” Yannassia said. “The illness that killed his wife and baby affected him, too. He recovered in body, but his mind was beyond help. He has deteriorated year by year. All the mages tried – including Kyra – but none of them could find anything amiss that could be fixed.”

“Was it poison, do you think?” Torthran said. “There were rumours in the barracks, I recall. The whole family struck down so suddenly…”

Yannassia shook her head. “It was suspected, of course.
I
was suspected, since our father was failing and died shortly afterwards. And then Vhar-zhin was away, and she was fine. Many questions were asked, and the mages investigated thoroughly but no one found any trace of poison. Of course, it was terribly suspicious, especially when I was made Drashona, since Yordryn was so ill and not expected to live, at that time. But I had no hand in it, and I could not think who else might have done such a thing. Who else would benefit?”

“Your heirs, rather than his,” Torthran said at once, his pleasant face unusually serious.

“They were all children! It was almost ten years ago, before I sent for Drina, even. Not one of my possible heirs, or Yordryn’s, had reached adulthood. And, I assure you, none of the nobles wanted me as Drashona, not when Yordryn was himself. He was
confirmed
, that was how much they preferred him. Only death or disaster could change that. There was no movement to have me declared heir, none at all.”

Torthran grunted, and the subject changed. It seemed unlikely to me that anyone would poison Yordryn if he was so popular, but whatever had happened then, it was a tragedy. I allowed myself only a brief moment of regret that Yordryn had not become Drashon, and left Yannassia and her heirs out of things. It was impossible to change the past, and I had accepted my destiny. There was no point wishing events had turned out otherwise.

~~~~~

The Nobles’ Council chamber was the twin to Yannassia’s assembly chamber in size and shape, but there the resemblance ended. Where the assembly chamber was cool marble, starkly plain, and decorated only with wall hangings, the council chamber was a roiling mass of over-decorated plasterwork, glittering with gold and jewel-encrusted ornamentation. It made my eyes hurt.

Tiers of seats around the perimeter accommodated the spreading bottoms of the well-fed nobles, so tightly squeezed together that their carefully frilled and flounced garments were at great risk of creasing. Extra benches at the front were also filled, and more perched on the stairs and packed the walkway behind the upper tier. Up above, the galleries were as full as they could hold.

Yannassia had a great many cousins, nephews and nieces who were also eligible as heirs, so the presentation took a long time. Each one was introduced by the most senior steward, giving their name, full rank and details of parentage, starting with the babies and working upwards in age. The children were removed promptly, for no one below the age of thirteen could be considered, but the rest of us stood motionless until the last elderly cousin had been named and made her bow.

Then Yannassia presented her choices for Drashonor and Bai-Drashonor, the primary and secondary heirs. She gave no reasons, simply giving the names. Zandara and I stood forward, and all the rest filed out.

At this point, the nobles could have asked for more time to consider, if Yannassia had produced someone unknown to them. I half hoped they would. It would give me a little more of my precious freedom. But no, I had never been free, not in any meaningful way. Yannassia had drawn me into her schemes, moon by moon, year by year, allowing me the illusion of freedom while quietly forcing me down her chosen path. I had never had any prospect of escape.

The nobles instead invited Yannassia to explain the reasons for her choice. She took her seat at one end of the room, and Zandara and I were led away to a withdrawing chamber while the discussions went on. Arran waited there for me, and Axandor, and Zandara’s current drusse. We sat on opposite sides of the room, avoiding looking at each other, as servants laid out food and drink on side tables.

Several of Zandara’s waiting women came and went. They were all noble, so they brought news from the chamber, whispering into Zandara’s ear before creeping out again. Then Zandara and Axandor would put their heads together, and mutter behind their hands. It amused me to watch them.

Late in the morning, Zandara was called into the chamber to answer questions. That was curious, for what could be asked now that had not already been asked a hundred times?

Both Axandor and Zandara’s drusse were also elsewhere when a servant slipped in wearing Zandara’s livery. I hardly noticed her at first, for she went straight to the chair draped with Zandara’s wrap. But then she came across to me, bowing deeply, offering me a wooden box.

“Greetings, Highness. I bring you a gift. Highness Zandara asked for some sweetmeats and instructed me to bring some for you also. These are your favourite, she said.”

Her accent was almost flawless Bennamorian, but her appearance was not. The dark skin and sharp nose proclaimed her to be Icthari. I remembered seeing her at Zandara’s apartment. There, it had merely seemed odd to have an Icthari servant. But here, in the nobles’ section of the Keep, where even the servants are nobility, her presence struck me as most peculiar. Why this servant, of all the servants at Zandara’s disposal?

But I betrayed no surprise as I accepted the box. “Thank you. That was thoughtful of her. I am sure I shall enjoy them. It pleases me, too, to see someone from my father’s homeland here in Bennamore. There are not many Icthari here, I think.”

There was a wariness in her face. “No, Highness.”

“You have worked for Highness Zandara for a long time?”

“Ten years next moon, Highness.”             

“You have served her well, then.”

A flash of pride in her eyes. “I believe I have, Highness. Enjoy the sweets.”

Then with a bow she was gone.

“You will not eat those,” Arran said, whisking the box from my hands. “Not before the food taster has tried them.”

“Certainly not. She is Icthari after all, and—”

Arran turned to look at me fully. “And?”

“And the Icthari know about poisons.
And
—” My hands were shaking. “And she was here ten years ago.”

“
Yordryn
? You are not serious?”

But there was no opportunity to discuss it further, for just then Zandara returned, with Axandor and her drusse, all of them smiling and relaxed.

“Oh, what is this?” Zandara said, picking up the box. “Ah, almond paste fruits, I remember now. I thought we might be in need of something sweet to cheer us up. Did she remember a box for you, too, sister?”

“She did. Thank you. You are too kind.”

Zandara opened her box, and peered into it, hand hovering. But I couldn’t allow her to eat any without warning her.

“Sister…” I said.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think the food taster should check these first?” I blurted. “Just in case.”

She laughed, an artificial tinkling that always set my teeth on edge. “Really, Drina, you are too ridiculous. These were prepared by my maid with her own hands. They are hardly likely to be poisoned. See?” She popped a small sweet into her mouth. “Mmm, delicious. Just what I needed. Will you not try one?”

“My… my stomach is all in knots. I will save them for later.”

“As you wish.” She reached for another sweet.

The hours wore away with painful slowness. Twice more Zandara was called into the chamber. I wasn’t called at all. I couldn’t decide whether that was good news or bad.

But just after the final work bell, we were both summoned to hear the nobles’ decision. It was the one I had dreaded for years.

I was to be Drashonor, with Zandara as Bai-Drashonor.

~~~~~

“Drina, you really must stop crying,” Mother said crossly. “It’s not helping.”

I had responded to that tone of voice all my life. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I can’t…” The words dribbled away to nothing. I wiped the tears from my cheeks, even as more welled up to follow them.

We were back in the withdrawing room. Zandara and her entourage had accepted her defeat with surprising equanimity, and disappeared. Arran had led me, stunned, from the council chamber, Yannassia following. Mother was Yannassia’s shadow at the moment, so she had followed too. In front of the nobles, I had betrayed no emotion, I hope, but here unexpected grief overwhelmed me.

Yannassia paced up and down, twisting her hands together. “I had no idea you still felt so strongly about this, child. I believed you had accepted it.”

“I had! I do. I was…
am
content to do whatever Bennamore needs of me,” I sniffled. “It’s just a shock. I truly thought they would go for Zandara. She always had more support than I did.”