“Doubtless,” said the Sieur drily. His faded eyes were shrewd in his plump face. “My lady mage, we meet again. An unexpected pleasure, in every sense.” Dapper despite his informal shirt and breeches, he smiled at Allin, who managed a curtsey of more elegance than Temar might have expected.
“You’re looking well, Messire,” she replied politely.
D’Olbriot ran a hand over his receding grey hair. “For a fat old man, my child.”
“Oh you’re hardly that, Messire,” fawned Casuel.
D’Olbriot ignored him. “And who are these other two?”
“Mistress Maedura and her daughter, a natural simpleton.” Temar shot a hasty glance over his shoulder but Lennarda seemed in some stupor within her mother’s protective embrace. Maedura was all but frozen with apprehension. “They had Kel Ar’Ayen artefacts in their possession, all unknowing,” Temar added hastily. “We had to rescue them, else they would have been beaten or worse.”
The Sieur D’Olbriot raised a hand. “Beyond question a complicated tale. Tell it tomorrow, D’Alsennin.” He snapped his fingers and Dolsan moved instantly to tug a bell pull hanging by the chimney breast. “Ryshad,” the Sieur continued. “See these women comfortably lodged and Temar may tell you his tale. Report to me before I retire.”
Ryshad was on his feet at once, shepherding them all towards the door. Maedura made a futile move towards the chest but Ryshad shook his head. “It’ll be safe enough there.”
Casuel touched a hand to it and hissed with surprised pain. “You really must work harder on controlling your elemental affinity,” he said spitefully to Allin, words indistinct as he sucked burned fingers. “There’s far too much fire in your working. Who’s been teaching you anyway? Velindre?”
“And Kalion,” retorted Allin with some spirit. “I’m sure the Hearth-Master will be delighted to hear your criticisms of his technique.”
“Enough.” Ryshad ushered them all into a small withdrawing room across the hall from the library, where a page was hastily lighting lamps. “The Sieur requests the Demoiselle Tor Arrial join us here,” he ordered the lad. “Now, Temar, explain yourself.”
“Allin and Velindre have come to the Festival to see what Toremal makes of magic’ Temar spoke rapidly, ignoring Casuel’s suspicious gaze. “They have been looking for hints of magic in any entertainment offered and Allin came across mention of this woman.” He indicated the still overawed Maedura. “She was claiming to have some means of contacting the Otherworld, getting word from the dead.” Temar hesitated. This was all starting to sound ridiculously implausible. “We wondered firstly if somehow it might be Artifice and I know you are interested in lost lore. Beyond that, if it proved true, I thought it might give us means to contact Vahil, Esquire Den Rannion that was.”
“I remember him,” Ryshad said softly, eyes dark in the golden lamplight.
Recalling how Ryshad had shared his life in dreams prompted by Artifice knocked Temar off his stride. “There was no enchantment,” he said simply. “But they have this chest and I’ll swear by Poldrion’s demons it has artefacts within it. The girl, the natural, hears echoes of the sleepers.”
“Where did you get the chest?” Ryshad demanded grimly.
Maedura clutched Lennarda to her. “A shrine to Maewelin, on an island in the Drax. The goddess looks kindly on the simple. They said it was a miracle, the priestesses, when my girl spoke. She’d never said a word before, not one.”
“And you repaid their kindness by stealing that coffer?” sneered Casuel.
“Mercenaries went raiding into Dalasor from Draximal,” Maedura said bitterly. “They sacked the shrine and everything for leagues around. Lennarda wouldn’t leave the chest, wouldn’t leave her voices, so I had to take it with me.”
“No one is calling you to answer for anything,” said Temar with a scowl at Casuel.
Maedura ignored him, her fear and fury fastening on Casuel. “You’d have had us stay to be raped and murdered? If the goddess chooses to speak through my poor child, who am I to deny her? Maewelin was a mother; she’d never grudge me earning coin to buy bread. We never took more than folk were willing to pay. We never feigned or deceived or—” She broke into dry, angry sobs that set Lennarda whimpering.
Temar looked helplessly at Ryshad, who clapped his hands together. “Cas, you see Allin home. Go on, lass, we’ll untangle this coil.” The swordsman gave Allin a kindly smile before turned a stern look on Casuel.
“Oh, very well.” The mage stalked crossly to the door. “We’ll call for a coach, shall we? A safer way to travel in your company, I think.”
Temar caught Allin’s arm as she meekly followed Casuel. “I am deep in your debt, my lady mage.”
She managed a faint smile before Casuel snapped an insistent summons over his shoulder.
Ryshad beckoned in two doubtful maids hovering outside in the hall. “See these two settled for the night in a garret room. They’re guests, but they’re not to leave the residence without my say-so, do you understand? Send word to Sergeant Stolley.”
“What’s all this?” Temar turned to see Avila rolling up the sleeves of her elegant gown as she appeared at the turn of the corridor. He raised his voice above the anguish of the two women now locked in desperate embrace. “They had artefacts—”
Avila snorted. “Some other time, my lad.” She laid a gentle hand on Maedura’s skewed kerchief. “Come with me. I can offer some respite from your grief.”
As Maedura looked up, wondering, Avila took Lennarda’s hand with irresistible gentleness. Gathering up the maids with an imperious glance, she led everyone out of the anteroom and Temar shut the door gratefully on the fading commotion.
“Remind me about that the next time I find Avila’s self-importance intolerable, will you?” he asked Ryshad lightly.
His high spirits sank beneath the stern look in Ryshad’s eyes. “If I even so much as suspect you’re thinking about going off on your own again, after something like this, I’ll chain you to your bedposts myself. Are we clear on that?”
Temar braced himself. “I wanted your help. I waited for you by the gates as late as I could. You did not return and this was too important to ignore.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Ryshad said bluntly. “Not then, when you’d no idea if this was all moonshine in a mustard pot.”
“It is the second day of Festival and I have achieved all but nothing,” Temar retorted. “I will try raking moonshine if there is any chance of finding gold. Anyway, I came to no harm.”
“Thanks to little Allin,” Ryshad pointed out.
Temar opened his mouth to deny this but thought better of it. “Thanks to Allin,” he agreed stiffly.
“I’d still rather you’d had a swordsman at your back.” A reluctant smile finally cracked Ryshad’s severity. “There’s no doubt you were born under the greater moon, my lad. Halcarion certainly polishes up your luck nice and bright.”
Temar grinned. “As the mercenaries keep saying, he who plays the longest odds wins most. Shall we take a look in that coffer?”
“We won’t disturb the Sieur, not if we don’t want to feel the sharp edge of his tongue,” said Ryshad with feeling. “We’ll have to make time in the morning, and that’s going to be plenty busy enough to satisfy you, believe me. Someone’s setting up D’Olbriot and D’Alsennin both for a whole new game, and if you’re not to lose your boots and breeches you need to know all the other moves played out today.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Preface to the Chronicle of D’Olbriot,
As Recorded on the Authority of Maitresse
Sancaerise, Winter Solstice of the 9th Year of
Aleonne the Valiant
It falls to me to give this testimony to the year now past in the absence of my beloved husband, Sieur Epinal, and with his Designate, his brother Esquire Ustin, incapacitated by wounds received in battle. It is my sorrowful duty to record that the surgeons now despair of his recovery. On behalf of all the women of the House, I beseech Drianon to watch over our sons and grandsons, brothers and nephews as they take up their swords to repel the Lescari from our borders as a new year of struggle opens.