Lady Channis was making a careful selection of tiny iridescent emerald feathers. “I took breakfast today with Avila Tor Arrial. She was telling me how you were encouraging young D’Alsennin to secure his mother’s portion from Tor Alder. She said how astonished he’d been to learn he even had such rights. But for Tor Alder to be ready to bring a case before the Emperor, they must have been convinced he knew, certain he’d be making a claim. If I go asking just who told them that, am I going to find your perfume hanging in the air?” Channis compared two feathers with a thoughtful eye. “Then Avila told me about this business with the Kellarin artefacts. How she and Temar had looked to you for help before anyone else, explaining why they needed to trace such heirlooms. But you haven’t helped, have you? First, you accept an invitation to dine with Den Turquand on the first day of Festival, such an honour for so minor a House. Then Camarl gets a note from that very Sieur telling him the heirlooms he wants will be sold to the highest bidder, and yesterday at the Den Murivance residence I learn Maitresse Tor Sylarre has been ransacking her daughter’s jewel cases. She’s accusing D’Olbriot of plans to use the courts to steal their wealth with some nonsensical tale of Kellarin’s claims, I hear. You took lunch with her on the second day of Festival, I believe. Is that when she got this notion in her head?”
“Dast’s teeth!” Involuntary anger escaped Temar.
“What’s been going on?” The Emperor narrowed suspicious eyes at Temar.
“That is what we hope to learn.” He leaned closer to the image framed by the curlicues of the silver tray.
“You’re full of accusations.” Dirindal was glaring at Channis, eyes dry and angry. “Will Master Burquest be making such arguments before the court?”
Lady Channis laughed without humour. “He could hardly build a case on such flimsy foundations. I suppose I should congratulate you on arranging everything so well.”
Dirindal opened her mouth but didn’t speak, a puzzled frown deepening her wrinkles.
“It’s just that I don’t understand the depth of your anger,” Lady Channis continued smoothly. “All our Houses are rivals, granted, but on the other side of the coin we’re allies as well. We have to be, or lately come merchantry get ideas above their station; you told me as much when I was a girl.”
“They’re doing that anyway, with the fool boy Tadriol encouraging their pretensions,” spat Dirindal.
Channis’s hand shook with surprise and she dropped a feather to the floor. She bent to recover it. “I know Guliel will be claiming the lion’s share of Kellarin’s bounty this year and probably next, but bear in mind all the costs the House has borne in recovering the colony. He’ll soon see he needs to share the rewards to be had there.”
Temar gritted his teeth so loudly the Emperor looked at him.
“He’ll allow us the crumbs that fall from his table, you mean?” said Dirindal sourly.
“That’s hardly just,” Channis objected. “Kellarin—”
“You think this is about Kellarin?” Dirindal interrupted in sudden, ugly fury. “You think we have any interest in sorcery-addled paupers grubbing a living in muddy caves? I never thought to say it, Channis, but you’re a fool!” She struggled to her feet and Temar’s heart began to beat faster as the old woman crossed the room. She barely topped the sitting Channis by a head, and was easily a generation older, but rage lent speed to her feet and vigour to her gestures.
“Oh, it’s about Kellarin, in so far as the wealth Guliel garners will extend his influence still further. He’ll drop the sweetest plums into eager hands like some doting grandsire and the insignificant little Names will think D’Olbriot’s so wonderful.” Dirindal’s scorn was withering. “Guliel will swan around, proud as a cob in springtime. All these dolts will be hanging on his coat tails whenever he goes before Tadriol—he’ll give the lad a little advice here, some words of warning there. The boy won’t dare ignore him; after all he speaks for so many. Guliel leads our so-called Emperor by the ring in his nose, just as he did his father, his uncles and grandsire.”
The Emperor gripped the back of Casuel’s chair, the movement catching Temar’s eye. An overlarge bull’s head ring was Tadriol’s only piece of jewellery, a battered golden antique secured by a fine black cord that looped up to tie round his wrist. Unlike the Steward’s badge, this bull had no ring.
Lady Channis was protesting volubly. “The House of D’Olbriot has only ever worked for the good of Tormalin. Guliel never uses his influence for selfish gain—”
“You expect me to believe that?” cried Dirindal. “Oh, it’s the quiet pigs that eat most fodder, my girl.”
“So this is about money,” said Channis with contempt.
“That’s all Guliel’s concerned with,” sneered Dirindal. “Sending his nephews to dine with the merchantry, flattering their ambitions, telling Tadriol to listen to their whining. Saedrin save us, jumped-up draper’s daughters are marrying into ancient Names with Tadriol’s very blessing because their coffers of gold outweigh base blood! And all the while Houses with history back to Correl the Stout fall into rack and ruin because common parasites have leeched away their trade and prerogatives. Does Guliel do anything to restore the privilege of rank? Does D’Olbriot use any influence to stop the rot? No, he stands at Tadriol’s shoulder and drips poisonous counsel in his ears and all the while his greedy little allies crowd round, drowning out wiser voices with their begging.”
“Would Haerel be offering better advice?” snapped Channis. “Or Kreve? We all saw you encouraging him to invite Tadriol down to his fiefdom for last year’s hunting season. I take it you’re looking to sit your grandson on the steps of the throne in Guliel’s place?”
“We should be sitting on that throne,” Dirindal hissed. “I should be managing the marriage of an Emperor of my own blood, not worrying what slattern D’Olbriot’s going to talk Tadriol into bedding. I should be an Emperor’s Relict, with all the influence of a lifetime’s rule. Don’t think I don’t know it was Guliel’s uncle turned the Houses against my husband’s claim, just as it’s been Guliel and his brothers backing every Tadriol since. How else could those dolts hold the throne? How many more of them have to die before our House regains its rightful place? Well, it’ll be different next time, when D’Olbriot’s brought low and Tor Bezaemar can show the Names the true meaning of power.”
Temar saw Channis go as white as the linen covering the table, even in the tiny image. Dirindal was leaning over her, rage twisting her hands in cruel claws. Channis gave a frantic push that sent the old woman stumbling backwards.
“Lay a hand on me and I’ll scream!” Her frightened voice rang through the enchantment.
“Cas, tell Velindre to interrupt them.” Temar felt cold with apprehension.
“I can’t, not without losing the spell,” said the mage tightly.
“Hold your magic, wizard,” ordered the Emperor, face grim. “Channis can take her chances.”
But as Temar watched, nervousness making him nauseous, Dirindal walked slowly back to the far side of the room. She smoothed the skirts of her modest gown and ran a plump hand over her undisturbed coiffeur. When she turned her face was settled once more in amiable lines of serene old age. “Dear me, Channis, I quite forgot myself. Oh, don’t think I wouldn’t slap you as you so richly deserve, but too many people know we’re in here together. And as you so cleverly observed, I make a habit of not doing things that cannot be innocently explained away. You’ve done very well to discover so much but the people I’ve used will twist in the wind before they betray me, so you’ve nothing to show for it. All you’ve done is warn me to take better care in future, haven’t you?”
“I’ll tell Guliel.” Channis sounded like a petulant child, and from her expression she knew it.
Dirindal’s laugh was kindly. “And he will have no more proof than you, my dear and we have plenty of Names to call on, if he wishes to set his House against ours. I doubt he has the stomach for that when all he ever does is hide behind Tadriol’s boy and whisper suggestions. If he had any true nobility he’d have taken the throne for himself by now.” She spoke over Lady Channis’s indignant protests. “Good day to you, my dear. I suppose I’ll see you at the Emperor’s dance this afternoon. You might want to purchase some white feathers while you’re here. It won’t be long before you’ll be looking for another House to shelter you, if you can find some minor Esquire prepared to take on soiled goods.”