Authors: Carol Berg
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Fantasy fiction
The Soul Mirror (16 page)
Duplais’ scrutiny did not waver. “Damoselle, that night we met outside the Rotunda, you seemed frightened. Have you been threatened in some way? Accosted here in the palace?”
“Certainly not. I was merely late for an appointment. It was my first day here.” I would share facts, not foolish megrims.
“Did you meet anyone in the Rotunda?”
“I glimpsed a man adjusting the lamps near the pendulum. I assumed him a watchman or servant.”
“
Lamps
? Do you think me an idiot who has no idea what goes on inside the Rotunda? ” His fingers gripped the chair back as if ready to throw it at me. “What are you
doing
here, damoselle? Are you waiting for someone to contact you?”
Lamps
? Do you think me an idiot who has no idea what goes on inside the Rotunda? ” His fingers gripped the chair back as if ready to throw it at me. “What are you
doing
here, damoselle? Are you waiting for someone to contact you?”
“I am in Merona by His Majesty’s command. You yourself brought the summons.”
“We know there’s more!” he snapped. “Are you dealing with someone inside the palace? Are you a player or a pawn?”
We?
The room was suddenly sweltering. Sweat beaded my neck. Was his mage partner here?
We?
The room was suddenly sweltering. Sweat beaded my neck. Was his mage partner here?
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I neither expected nor wished to come to Merona. Did my jailer give me leave, I’d walk home this very night.”
Surely some revelation lay just beyond his words, if I could but nudge his fraying patience a bit further.
“Perhaps you could be more specific,” I said. “Or is this a determination to punish my father’s kin because you’re too incompetent to catch him? You’ve destroyed my mother. You’ve imprisoned my young brother in a place reserved for murderers and traitors. And for
what
?”
what
?”
“For
sorcery
!” he blurted. “Don’t play the ingenue with me! You devoured every word spoken at your father’s trial. This is all about sorcery.”
sorcery
!” he blurted. “Don’t play the ingenue with me! You devoured every word spoken at your father’s trial. This is all about sorcery.”
“What could I know of sorcery, Sonjeur de Duplais? I’ve no schooling in it. It’s likely some few magical workings are natural phenomena that scientific academicians do not yet grasp. But the bulk of them are no more than hypocrisy and lies—illusions of light or mechanics portrayed as the supernatural by deceivers like you to enthrall the gullible.”
“Confound it, damoselle. Your father is not a stupid man, so his favored child could not be so. Your father’s associates pursue magic of a kind we’ve not seen in ages of the world, sorcery that corrupts the laws of nature. Do you think you can play with it? Tease with it? Sell it to the highest bidder?”
“I cannot help you, sonjeur,” I said, holding tight reins on my rising excitement. “I’ve neither seen my father nor communicated with him in five years. Perhaps if you told me—”
“Be very careful with these games, damoselle.” He bit off each word, fury quenched so thoroughly, one would think he’d donned plate armor. “You do not behave as the innocent you claim to be. Others see this as well as I do. I’ve a powerful friend who can protect you, do you but ask.”
Against all intent, the septic anger festering in my belly erupted. “You can be sure this is no game to me, Sonjeur de Duplais. Yet
your
powerful friend would be the last I’d choose to aid me. I’m not sure who to fear more—those who perpetrate these crimes or those who prosecute them. Somewhere the differences between the two parties have blurred. My mother is mad and my sister dead, and neither you nor your vile mage has told me why, though I believe you know very well.”
your
powerful friend would be the last I’d choose to aid me. I’m not sure who to fear more—those who perpetrate these crimes or those who prosecute them. Somewhere the differences between the two parties have blurred. My mother is mad and my sister dead, and neither you nor your vile mage has told me why, though I believe you know very well.”
“My vile—You speak of Dante.” Wariness clipped his tongue.
“I came here willing tonight, because your public posturing ensured I cannot leave the palace without your permission. So, perhaps your
powerful friend
can help me with this: I have not been allowed to see my brother in four years. I have appealed to every authority I know, from my goodfather to his lowliest secretary, but have received naught but vague referrals to other faceless names. I doubt half my letters reach my brother’s hand. Even if they did, I cannot tell him of our sister’s death on paper. I must speak to him. You serve no justice to forbid it.”
powerful friend
can help me with this: I have not been allowed to see my brother in four years. I have appealed to every authority I know, from my goodfather to his lowliest secretary, but have received naught but vague referrals to other faceless names. I doubt half my letters reach my brother’s hand. Even if they did, I cannot tell him of our sister’s death on paper. I must speak to him. You serve no justice to forbid it.”
He considered this for a moment. “Perhaps we could exchange favors.”
This despicable offer left me speechless. Before I could recover my wits, the cheerful manservant popped through the door. “Sonjeur, it’s time.”
“We’ll continue this another day, damoselle,” said Duplais with a curt bow. “Meanwhile, I’d advise you to have a care with accusations. Court politics will ever overtake justice. As for Master Dante . . . he is no ally of mine. As I tell Heurot, here, and anyone else who might listen: Keep as far from him as your duties allow. Divine grace.”
I neither reflected the blessing nor gave him any more words to twist.
CHAPTER 10
17 OCET, EVENING
“
Y
our master is a cold man,” I snapped to Heurot as we ascended the endless stair. “I wonder he allows you to smile.”
Y
our master is a cold man,” I snapped to Heurot as we ascended the endless stair. “I wonder he allows you to smile.”
“He’s ever been kind and considerate to me, damoselle. Still does mostly for himself, though he raised my pay when he hired me on to work for him alone. And I’ve never known another gentleman to help his man with an education. He’s determined I’ll be a fit secretary for him someday.”
“He intends us all to be useful to his schemes.” Of course he would want me to stay away from Dante, so I could not learn what wickedness they planned.
“Respectfully, damoselle, I believe you’ve misunderstood him.” Heurot frowned and shook his head as if I’d slandered his mother. “I only dare speak out so bold because a certain person tells me you’re a kind mistress who appreciates honest talk, and I’m certain my master would never wish to offend a gentle lady.”
“I doubt he notices whether I am a woman or not.”
“Likely that’s your misunderstanding of him, damoselle. Confidentially, he’s not at all easy with ladies, being dreadful . . . inexperienced . . . in that line. And then it haps the first lady he came sweet on turned out to be the traitor’s handmaid what was condemned to die and then escaped the Spindle Prison.
That
set him back, it did.”
That
set him back, it did.”
Duplais had
loved
Maura ney Billard? I could scarce believe it! Lovely, good-hearted Maura. My father had once saved her life, then callously manipulated her into complicity in treason. Duplais, as the Principal Accuser, had laid out the case against her and signed the king’s judgment condemning her to death. Never once had he wavered or shown any hint of withholding. True, the lady had miraculously escaped from prison. But Duplais remained here, pursuing my father. Either he was the coldest lover ever to walk the earth or the most deceitful or . . . I wasn’t sure what. The man confounded me.
loved
Maura ney Billard? I could scarce believe it! Lovely, good-hearted Maura. My father had once saved her life, then callously manipulated her into complicity in treason. Duplais, as the Principal Accuser, had laid out the case against her and signed the king’s judgment condemning her to death. Never once had he wavered or shown any hint of withholding. True, the lady had miraculously escaped from prison. But Duplais remained here, pursuing my father. Either he was the coldest lover ever to walk the earth or the most deceitful or . . . I wasn’t sure what. The man confounded me.
As Heurot and I slogged up the long stair, reason cooled my fury. Duplais believed the mysterious bandits had found what they searched for at Montclaire. A book, certainly, and perhaps some of my sister’s things. Every one of the items mentioned had been Lianelle’s, save de Vouger’s letters. Why the thieves would take those letters was a mystery.
My sister claimed she had been working sorcery entirely different from what the Camarilla taught, Gautieri magic she called it, derived from the Seravain books. I squeezed Lady Cecile’s book, weighing like an anvil in my pocket.
Collegia Magica de Gautieri
. Was magical authority the problem? Lianelle had told me how protective the Camarilla felt about their rites and formulas. Yet why would the Royal Accuser in the matter of Michel de Vernase care about Camarilla infighting? Unless even a failed sorcerer could be a partisan in such a battle. Unless the conflict was not
petty
infighting.
Collegia Magica de Gautieri
. Was magical authority the problem? Lianelle had told me how protective the Camarilla felt about their rites and formulas. Yet why would the Royal Accuser in the matter of Michel de Vernase care about Camarilla infighting? Unless even a failed sorcerer could be a partisan in such a battle. Unless the conflict was not
petty
infighting.
The Blood Wars, begun in clan warfare among sorcerers, had brought Sabria to the brink of ruin: half our people dead, cities and villages burned to ash, scholars and teachers executed, entire families—many of them blood families, but also other noble families who had founded and built Sabria—entirely wiped out. Now Duplais’ Mage Dante, who had made himself indispensable to the Queen of Sabria, had reportedly destroyed the Bastionne Camarilla. . . .
Images of objects falling from the ruin much more slowly than physics prescribed slowed my steps.
Sorcery that corrupts the laws of nature.
Sorcery that corrupts the laws of nature.
Somehow Lianelle’s encrypted books were linked to my father and blood transference and the plot to bring down King Philippe. The marauders’ Norgand ringleader had used a mask like that described at Papa’s trial. It was all part of the same mystery.
“I do appreciate your honesty, Heurot,” I said. “I’ll not betray your confidence. And I’m glad to hear Sonjeur de Duplais treats you better than his friend the mage treats
his
poor servant.”
his
poor servant.”
“Oh, damoselle, if you thought . . .” Pausing at the last bend of the narrow stair, Heurot shook his head and lowered his voice. “My master is no friend with
that
one. Sonjeur de Duplais was employed by Master Dante when they both first come here, but the mage near burnt him to ash in displeasure at his work, and near broke my master’s neck on that barge what burned. That’s the day my master’s hand got burnt by the devil’s firework. Some say the dark mage was trying to cripple my master or kill him by leaving him to burn. And everyone knows there’s more ill feeling between them than that.”
that
one. Sonjeur de Duplais was employed by Master Dante when they both first come here, but the mage near burnt him to ash in displeasure at his work, and near broke my master’s neck on that barge what burned. That’s the day my master’s hand got burnt by the devil’s firework. Some say the dark mage was trying to cripple my master or kill him by leaving him to burn. And everyone knows there’s more ill feeling between them than that.”
His witnessing shook me a bit. Those ugly pocked scars on Duplais’ right hand were visible evidence. But with only the good-hearted Heurot to support it, I was not yet ready to yield Duplais’ benevolence.
When we reached the east-wing stair, the youth halted and bowed. “Heed his warning, damoselle. My master is the wisest man in Merona, and sure there’s naught he fears in the world more than the dark mage.”
THE MEETING WITH DUPLAIS LEFT me no time to read Cecile’s book before the court presentation. Though it was easy to say which activity I’d prefer, I knew better than to risk Lady Antonia’s wrath by skipping the formalities.
The queen sat amid her ladies and gentlemen. Bless all bright spirits, the mage was not present. But Duplais was there in a discreet corner, sober and proper, journal in hand. And the physician Roussel, his aspect pleasant as always, stood to one side, observing the fanfare. Hundreds of people lined the Presence Chamber, despite the lack of fireworks or exotic splendors. Tonight was an exhibition, not of science or magic but of politics, influence, and rank.
“Belinda de Mercier, daughter of Gerard de Mercier Conte Fermin and Beatrice de Marquay y Mercier-Fermin . . .”
One by one they announced our names. Each young woman strolled the length of the Presence Chamber, escorted by a gentleman of the household, and made formal obeisance to Eugenie. Each was applauded and cheered as the queen handed her a white rose, and the young lady took her place at the queen’s side. My lack of rank placed me last.
“Anne ney Cazar, daughter of Madeleine de Cazar.” At court, I was the child only of my mother. Perhaps I should adopt the Cazar name as Lianelle had.
A moment’s resounding silence greeted the announcement. An immensely tall, slim man in a slashed doublet and tight breeches of peach-colored satin stepped to my side. Resplendent, perhaps a bit overresplendent, in pearl-studded gold embroidery and trailing lace, he swept a bow and took my hand, holding it raised in front of us as if my fingers were fragile and precious.
A tide of whispers swelled behind us. The carpet seemed to stretch a thousand kilometres. Skin blazing, I clenched my jaw and fixed my eyes on the gilt-edged painting of the Pantokrator looming over the queen’s head. After the turmoil of the past hour, a meaningless ceremony before people I detested should not faze me, yet my hand shook like a coward’s knees.
“You mustn’t mind them.” My escort’s gaze remained forward, his expression the vague and meaningless hauteur of an experienced courtier. But his eyebrows flicked upward several times, and his head tilted ever so slightly my way. “Think of them as a flock of geese. I always do. Just attend your steps as you leave the hall, lest you foul your most charming slippers.”
The fiery bands constricting my chest loosed just a bit. “Thank you,” I murmured, without moving my lips. Never in my life had I been so grateful for a word.
His hand, encased in ridiculously long-fingered peach satin gloves, squeezed my fingers.
When we reached the end of the carpet before the throne, I dropped my eyes and curtsied deeply. My escort raised me. Without releasing my hand, he swiveled on his heeled boots and swept an elegant bow. “A pleasure, Damoselle de Vernase.”
His use of my proper name popped my glance upward. I blinked. His pale hair was cut in an eccentric style, left long on one side and cut short on the other, where it could reveal an ornate dangling earring set with tourmalines. He rolled his merry blue eyes and retreated.
“Welcome, Anne.” When I stepped forward at her soft greeting, the queen, exquisitely regal in midnight blue and diamonds, handed me a rose from the alabaster vase at her side. Her gaze remained lowered, as if she were the demure maiden. Her flawless cheeks bore a faint flush.
“Your Majesty.”
I took my place with the other maids of honor, marveling at the power of good humor. My escort stood behind the other gentlemen of the court, a head taller than any of them. He made no effort at sobriety, winking, making faces, and twiddling his peach-gloved fingers at this person and that. Emboldened by his kindness, I swore to speak to him as soon as the ceremonies were over, rather than escaping at the first instant, as was my wont.
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