“Stop whining,” Laurel said. He walked to the windows and reopened the blinds. “I’ve told you that mages weren’t the only ones who chew the mentha leaves.”
I stopped squinting against the sudden glare and stared as he met my eyes in the mirror. “You?”
“All of us who work talent. Why do you think Honor Ash took such time with you?”
“Apparently not because of my winning personality.” I applied the lather, feeling sharp disappointment at the sprite’s ulterior motives. I picked up the razor and began to shave.
“She loved you, Rabbit,” Laurel said, sitting back down on the bed. “Child and growing lad, she loved you, and she couldn’t wait until you were of age so she could ask you to join the Faena. She would boast of you at each of the Faena councils—your quickness, your talent, your intelligence—until everyone else was sick of it.” Laurel sighed. “I cannot believe I shall never see her again.” He looked back at my reflection. “She was furious that Magus Kareste convinced your parents to apprentice you to him.” His whiskers swept back in a wry smile. “She named him thief and laughed in his face when he came looking to see if you’d taken refuge with us. Honor Ash told him if you had, indentures or no, he’d not get you back. She also told him about his parents, his upbringing, and the status of his maleness. Or lack thereof.” I said nothing, concentrating on finishing shaving. But all the while the thought lurked in the back of my mind of how I’d convinced myself when I ran away that no one cared—and how wrong I was.
“She was very glad, Rabbit, that I was going to find you,” Laurel Faena said.
I finished dressing in silence; a new uniform was provided along with the shaving kit, crisply pressed, creases sharp. I started to walk to where I could see myself in the mirror to make sure everything was straight, and then realized that I didn’t give a damn. I turned away and went to where the uniform I wore yesterday was folded in a chair. I picked up my sword and scabbard and buckled it on. I then ransacked the trouser pockets for handkerchiefs, and discovered the feather.
Laurel rumbled, his eyes on it.
After a moment, I went back to the dresser where a brush and comb were also provided. After watching me fumble with my hair (even though I had a mirror this time) the Faena rumbled again. “Let me do it.” He took the brush from my hand and in a few moments I had my heavy braid back, the feather fixed to one of the ties.
“We need to talk about the covenant, and also what happened with Slevoic,” Laurel began, putting the brush down.
“Rabbit!” Jeff called outside my door.
“But apparently not now.” Laurel sighed. “I’ve come to believe there’s a conspiracy deep and wide dedicated to keeping us from needful discussions.”
I didn’t respond but turned away from my reflection in the mirror and walked to the door, opening it—and blinked. Blocking the doorway was Basel, in his man form, wearing full ghostly armor and holding a really big sword. “Stop exaggerating,” I said. The shade turned his head and gave me glowing red eyes. “And stop that too.”
Jeff and several King’s Own stood in front of the haunt, all looking annoyed. “He wouldn’t let anyone come get you, Rabbit,” Jeff said, “even though we told him the king sent us.”
“My fault, honored sirs,” Laurel said from behind me. “I needed to speak with Lord Rabbit in private and asked the moon soldier to ensure that we wouldn’t be disturbed.” He came out of the room, crowding both Basel and me into the hallway. “Time got away from us.” He bowed. “Shall we go?”
Asked Basel to stand guard? I stared at the ghost and he shrugged.
“The dead are governed by the earth aspect, Rabbit,” Laurel reminded me as we started down the hall after the captain of the guards, “which is my affinity.” He cast me a look. “It was an asking, mind, which the haunt could’ve refused. Anything else would’ve been necromancy.”
The King’s Own brought us to the same chamber where we had first met Foreign Chancellor Berle. The nymphs and mermaids were all there, and Jeff quickly sought out his favorites.
“What happened to you, cousin?” Jusson asked as I bowed. The original table had been exchanged for a much larger one, and he sat in the middle of one side. His eyes focused on the feather, bright red against the dark of my hair. “I asked for you some time ago.” We all turned and glared at Basel, who tried to duck behind me.
Jusson sighed. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” Lord Commander Thadro and Captain Javes were on one side and Captain Suiden on the other side of the king. Jusson gestured at an empty seat next to Suiden. “Please be seated, Rabbit.” He looked at Laurel Faena. “If you won’t mind waiting outside, Ambassador. We have some brief army business and then we will have our delayed meeting.” He waited until Laurel exited, then nodded at Thadro. “Bring him in.”
Thadro signaled a guard who went out of the room and returned with Lieutenant Groskin—and Archdoyen Obruesk, carrying his staff.
“You again!” Jusson said, frowning.
“I didn’t ask him, Your Majesty,” Groskin said.
“Why shouldn’t I be with my good friend’s nephew,” Obruesk said at the same time, “to give comfort at his time of travail?”
“He’s not giving birth,” muttered Javes.
“Consider him comforted,” Thadro said. “Now please leave.”
But the archdoyen had caught sight of me, and lowered his head, glaring out from under his brows. “Once again you’d bar me but you allow an accused sorcerer to stay.”
He really must have been sure of himself.
“Leaving alone the pesky detail of proof, without which accusations are mere slander. Your Reverence, once again you press uninvited into where you have no place.” The king leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on the table. “But since you insist, you may stay while we conduct a military inquiry. You may also stay during our meeting with another country’s ambassador. However, we shall inform the patriarch that we also get equal access to all his church council meetings.” He smiled, showing his teeth, and waited.
Politics, indeed.
The archdoyen raised his head, still glaring, but he knew he had been routed. He spun around and stalked to the door, the bells on his staff tinkling as it struck the floor with each step. A guard closed it behind him with a gentle snick.
“Well?” The Lord Commander glared at Lieutenant Groskin.
“Sir, he insisted on accompanying me—” Groskin began.
“Leave it, Thadro,” Jusson said. “We’re sure the archdoyen thought this up on his own.”
Lord Commander Thadro settled down in his chair. “Under normal circumstances, Lieutenant, you would be up on a host of charges ranging from insubordination to inciting rebellion, with undermining morale, disobeying a direct order, endangering a fellow officer, and precipitating a war along the way. Not to mention sheer stupidity in aligning yourself with someone whom you knew to be perfidious—”
The king cleared his throat.
“—however, because the circumstances are not normal we have decided to give you another chance.”
Groskin’s head, which had been down, snapped up at that. “Sir?”
“You will remain with your unit and your captain in the same office you held before.”
“Uh,” Groskin said, looking at Suiden, whose eyes were hot green in his dark face.
“Twice you’ve come in contact with the magical,” Thadro said, “and twice you’ve failed abominably. Do not fail a third time.”
“No, sir.”
“This is not a sinecure, Lieutenant,” Jusson said. “As we said before, you have betrayed the trust of your fellow lieutenant, your captain, your entire troop, and the Royal Army. You have betrayed your king. You have a lot of proving to do.”