House of Shadows(42)
Taudde inclined his head as though reassured. In fact, though he thought Lord Miennes meant what he said, he was almost certain that Mage Ankennes… Well, he did not precisely suspect Ankennes of outright lying. But an underlying hard resolve beneath the mage’s words made him wonder whether, when Ankennes said end the dominance of the Seriantes line, he really meant destroy every root and branch of the Seriantes line. And that implied a hatred that went beyond what even Taudde felt for the Seriantes Dragons. Except he could hear no such depths of hatred in the mage’s voice. But what save deep loathing could lead to such a broad and brutal goal?
But he did not have time or leisure to consider that question now. He said, in a neutral tone, addressing both men, “If I do this for you, I will be free to go about my own business? You understand, I will not under any compulsion stay in Lonne beyond the solstice.”
“Of course. I—we—should never expect that of you,” Miennes assured him, deceit so clear in his voice that he might have simply said out loud, No, you are mine, I will never release you from my hand. “You are perfectly correct. You did very well, setting up that engagement of yours to follow this one,” the lord concluded. “Very clever.” He patted Taudde on the arm, a possessive gesture that made Taudde set his teeth. If he noticed Taudde’s distaste, it didn’t trouble him. He went on smoothly, “I presumed even the heir himself might find himself vulnerable to a man of your… heritage and training. I surmise I was correct.”
Taudde nodded. The Dragon’s heir indeed seemed vulnerable to a creative sorcerer, a vulnerability that was one reason for the Seriantes ban against bardic sorcerers. However—“The ban,” he began.
“You need not concern yourself with the ban,” Ankennes murmured in his deep voice. “I will craft a protection about you and above you. Other mages of Lonne will find it far more difficult to perceive your workings than would ordinarily be the case. You understand?”
“Certainly that will make this task far more straightforward,” Taudde murmured. “I thank you for your shield. Ah—difficult, you say. But, I surmise, not—”
The mage smiled, an expression both amused and cold. “Not wholly impossible, no. I recommend a continuing discretion.”
Taudde inclined his head. So Mage Ankennes would set protections round about to ensure that he’d be able to do the sorcery they required. No doubt the mage would take other precautions to see to it, and to prevent his escape afterward. But the conspirators were sure he would do their murder, first. A Kalchesene bardic sorcerer? Of course they were sure. The heir’s death would leave the Dragon himself without legitimate sons… grieving, if Geriodde Nerenne ken Seriantes was actually capable of grief, which Taudde personally doubted, given what he had done to his own elder sons. But even so, the death of his last remaining heir would unquestionably deliver a devastating blow to the King of Lirionne. Taudde could hardly accustom himself to the idea that he himself could be the one to deliver such a blow to the Seriantes Dragon. It was a vengeance he had never looked to gain, and it had not merely fallen into his path but had been forced into his hands.
He said slowly, “I will do this.” He said it with conviction, though he had not yet actually decided whether he would do it or not. But already he had an idea of how he could do it. And he truly thought he might, the treaty and his vow to his grandfather notwithstanding. Could he truly claim these conspirators had forced him to break the treaty and that vow? Or would he act, if he did, simply because he chose to, for himself and for Kalches? He felt a little ill with the uncertainty.
Satisfied, unaware either of the deceit or of the confusion, Miennes gave Mage Ankennes a sideways glance and then nodded to Taudde. “I am confident we all understand one another.” He lifted a hand, adding, “Allow me to escort you to your conveyance, my young friend.”
Taudde’s carriage waited merely a dozen steps down the drive. The wind came gently from the sea and over the city, carrying the scents of salt and sand and the myriad close smells of the city. It ruffled the horse’s white mane. The moon shone palely overhead, muted by the greenish magelight that illuminated the city.
Taudde stepped into the carriage, settled into its well-cushioned seat, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes. He longed for the midnight skies of Kalches, where in the winter the brilliant darkness of the sky came so close to the endless snow that each star sounded a clear and separate note on the theme of the night. He almost told Benne to drive on, along the Kemsennes River and up into the mountains that framed the city. There in the heights, the stars would at last become visible.