8

Markus was gone when Dominic woke the next morning, and the wards had disappeared as well. He could hear voices and footsteps in the hallway, so presumably his guard was somewhere about. Dominic dressed in haste and rushed out of his room, barely avoiding an official-looking person who was running down the hall. The man held a sheaf of papers and a dispatch case. Looking about, Dominic noticed a number of regular soldiers who hadn't been there the previous night.

It appeared something had been decided, but the precise nature of the decision remained unclear. A black-clad defensive magician followed him when he headed for Ardhuin’s workroom. Unlike Markus, this man was silent and stolid, but still conscientious about his work. Even here, inside the Imperial Palace, his eyes constantly shifted about, looking for signs of magical attack. He was not, however, a great conversationalist. Despite repeated attempts, all Dominic’s questions elicited only “Yes, sir,” “No, sir,” and “I couldn’t say, sir,” which seemed to be his entire repertoire.

When he found her, Ardhuin was not in the workroom, but in an antechamber nearby. She wore a plain, dark blue dress and was looking out one of the windows at the park below, two defensive magicians on either side. One looked bewildered that he was guarding her but determined to do it, and the other appeared to be debating whether or not to forcibly move her away from such an exposed location.

“We're not to even leave the wing,” said Ardhuin when Dominic came up and joined her. “Nobody seems to know anything except for the decision to add more guards.”

Dominic grimaced. “This could be a slow morning.”

She gave a perfunctory smile, still looking out the window. Her long fingers tapped restlessly at the windowpane for a moment, then she turned to him. “Come with me to the workroom.”

Their respective escorts were not pleased at having to wait outside. Dominic felt a twinge of satisfaction, knowing they were excluded and he was not.

Somehow, Ardhuin had found the time to unpack and arrange her equipment. The room showed little sign of its earlier disorder. She went to a secretary cabinet and opened one of the drawers, taking out a small, dark green box.

“This is for you,” she said without preamble, thrusting it at him. Her long, intent face showed nothing—he couldn’t read her face, or tell what she was thinking. She watched him warily as he took it from her.

Thin, graceful gold letters on the box formed the words “de Cusac, Parys.” Inside was a gold stickpin. The top was an emerald rosebud, delicately held in place by small gold leaves. It took him a moment to find his voice, suddenly overcome by emotion. So that was the secret errand that had taken her out, alone.

“You had this set when we were in Parys,” Dominic said finally, incredulous. There was a faint sheen of magic to the stickpin, and he turned it in his fingers, admiring it.

She nodded. Her face was flushed. “It isn't just…it has another use. I've tuned the natural magical signature of the rose just enough that I could search for it. I…I'd like you to keep it with you. It doesn't have to be visible to work, just away from iron,” she said earnestly. “I keep telling them you are in danger too, but they don’t listen to me, and they won’t let me do anything! But just in case something does happen…I want to be able to find you.” Her voice trailed off, her face creased with worry.

The only other piece of jewelry Dominic still owned was his father’s pocket watch, whose greatest value was sentimental. He had never thought he would own something as beautiful and rare as this, and Ardhuin seemed worried he would refuse it.

“The style of dress here is in general beyond my touch,” he said lightly, trying to insert the pin by feel and by dint of tucking in his chin. “Now I shall look a little more the thing. I don’t suppose there is a mirror anywhere?”

The beginnings of a smile on Ardhuin’s face vanished. “I don’t like mirrors.” Then she turned bright red and mumbled, “I am sorry. You should not be inconvenienced by my habits.”

She held up her hands, thumbs and forefingers touching each other. The magic flared sharp and bright—painfully so. Through watering eyes, Dominic saw a smooth, silvery surface framed by her fingers.

“Does that work well enough?” Ardhuin asked, glancing at him.

“Oh yes, perfectly,” Dominic lied. With the glare of the magic he could barely see anything more than a blur. “What spell is that?” Some instinct made him look away when he saw the magic begin to flow back toward her hands.

Ardhuin looked guilty. “It’s, um…the encasement field for a fire shell.” His shock must have shown, for she hurried on, “I remembered thinking how shiny it was when I did them before, and—”

“When did you cast fire shells?” That was war magic even he knew about. He had a sudden flash of recollection of Professor Botrel in his office in Dinan, recounting the destruction of Fougéres.

“My great-uncle insisted I learn,” Ardhuin whispered. “He said—he said I might need to use it someday, and theoretical knowledge was not enough.”

She sat down on one of the remaining couches and drew her feet up underneath her, clasping her knees with her arms. She looked miserable.

Well, why was he so shocked? She had told him she had been taught by one of the top mages of the War, trained to prevent a recurrence of that war. Of course she would need to know such things.

“I am glad he did. It would appear he was quite correct,” Dominic said, and smiled to see her relieved expression. “I only wish I could be of more assistance in defending you myself.”

Ardhuin sighed. “You have helped me simply by being here. If I were by myself, I think I would go mad.”

Hearing the shaky tone in her voice, Dominic set himself to distracting her. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. Preusan medicine is woefully primitive when it comes to the treatment of mental imbalance. A great deal of cold water and simple food, interspersed with voltaic shocks.”

She shook her head, adding a few more fiery strands of hair to the tendrils that had already escaped. “No, that does not sound appealing.”

Dominic sat down on the couch beside her. She remained in her unconventional pose, and he remembered now that she would do so at Peran if she felt either particularly at ease or distressed. Her choice of attire, too, was a signal of her mood. Were they at home and she were wearing the same dull, plain dress, he would say she was extremely annoyed.

“I have no means of improving my wardrobe, but I know you have dresses that would suit the court,” he commented. “Why don’t you wear them?”

Ardhuin widened her eyes. “I don’t want to be noticed—I was hoping I would look somewhat older in this.” She flicked at a fold of the dark blue dress. “Besides the obvious objections to my being female, I am considered far too young for the responsibility of being a Mage Guardian. They say I can’t possibly know mage-level spells at my age, so how could I have mastered the magics only Mage Guardians are permitted to know? No doubt that is causing at least half of the frenzied discussions taking place. The compact is quite explicit on the subject of heirs, and with everyone else dead or missing, they have little choice.” She frowned. “Perhaps I should have illusioned myself to look older? Or put some powder in my hair, as they did in olden days.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Dominic said, grinning. “They would have found the illusion eventually, and powder would not make you look older. If you had mirrors about, you would know this. I don’t understand why you dislike them,” he added. “All the beautiful ladies I’ve met were incapable of staying away from a mirror for more than five minutes.”

Ardhuin laughed, then choked, staring at him. She said nothing, remaining silent for so long he finally had to ask if something was wrong. She gave a curious half-smile, a little wistful, and said, “Until I find a mirror that sees what you see, I will retain my aversion to them.”

The day dragged on, and still no word from the Council on any decision. Ardhuin was conscious of a terrible restlessness that only aggravated the tension of waiting. Since nobody would tell her anything, she stayed in her workroom the entire time, demonstrating various war magics for Dominic’s edification.

She could not understand the man, could never predict his reactions. Somehow she had taken to thinking of him as being like her great-uncle, or as another magician. Then something would occur, such as her mention of fire shells, and his response would startle her. It forced her to remember that most of what he knew of magic she had taught him—and it might not be enough for what they faced.

So she had suggested the demonstration, partly to address his lack of knowledge and partly, she had to admit, to introduce a less uncomfortable topic of conversation. Sometimes she thought it would be better to avoid Dominic Kermarec and his peculiar preference for her company—but when she did, it made her even more irritable.

“Dieter used a kind of detector to find the stasis field,” Dominic commented as she got ready. “Can’t they do something like that for these spells, too?”

Ardhuin concentrated on building the sticky magic-threads that formed the spell, then answered. “First, detectors like that are very crude and only exist for a small number of very common spells. Second, war magic like this is usually extremely powerful and…unstable. Introducing more magic to find it could set it off. Like this,” she said, and snapped the magic free from its constraints.

“I hope that wasn’t valuable,” Dominic said, watching as a coy porcelain shepherdess disintegrated into a fine dust on the inlaid table where it had stood.

Ardhuin scowled. “The King specifically told me I could do as I pleased with these rooms. I am quite certain he would prefer I demonstrate the Crystalline Polythrenode attack on a small ornament than the walls of the Imperial Palace.”

Dominic grinned and gestured acknowledgment. “Put that way, it makes perfect sense. But why the figurine and not…oh, a wineglass?” He indicated the remains of their luncheon, brought to them when requested.

“It doesn’t work on glass, for some reason. No one really knows why. It has best effect on stone, but brick and porcelain also are—”

Pock. Pock. Pock.

The comforting background vibration of the wards was disturbed sharply. A glance at Dominic’s startled face told her he had sensed it too, in his own way.

He pointed. “The door. It didn’t look very strong, though.”

Ardhuin gathered hard, dense power before her as a shield, and opened the door. Outside were two defensive magicians—one who had been with her earlier in the morning, and Markus Asgaya. Markus had an amused gleam in his eye as he turned to the other defensive magician, who sighed and gave him a gold coin, saying something resigned in Preusan before leaving.

Markus bowed. Ardhuin felt a thick-headed cloud of confusion for a moment, seeing him, so clearly Yunwiyan yet also Aeropan, and her mind tried to see long black hair with clan insignia instead of a Preusan military crop. It disoriented her, but only temporarily. Markus was by far the most friendly of the Preusans she had met.

“Good afternoon, Lady Magus. I merely wished to inform you that I had come on duty.” He smiled.

Lady Magus? Somehow she doubted that was the official term.

“What were you doing?” Dominic asked with a disapproving expression. “That was you disturbing the wards, wasn’t it?”

Markus nodded and grinned. “A small matter of a wager only. My comrade did not believe I could get your attention from outside the wards. Just a few light probes,” he added.

“You deliberately attacked the wards?” Ardhuin asked, anger building and overwhelming her initial shock. “What if I had set a response?”

“And what if you had distracted her?” asked Dominic, folding his arms. “She was casting dangerous spells in there.” Markus raised a questioning eyebrow, and Dominic added, “Crystalline Polythrenode.”

Markus paled. “My profound apologies. It did not occur to me—”

“That I would know the spell?” Fury replaced her anger.

“That you would have any cause to cast it here,” the defensive magician said, holding up his hands. “Perhaps there was a wall you wished removed?”

“Just a figurine,” Dominic murmured, the corner of his lip twitching.

Ardhuin scowled at him. “I thought it wise that Monsieur Kermarec be able to recognize any war magics we might encounter,” she told Markus. “I was merely demonstrating them.”

“Ah.” Markus Asgaya rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You raise an important point,” he said, nodding to Dominic. “How are we to contact you inside the wards? They are…formidably powerful. We tried calling to you for five minutes before I made my attempt.”

The wards did deaden sound, especially further away from the door, which was the only real contact point.

“I’ll think of something. Do you have any news from the Council?” Ardhuin asked hopefully. If only they could do something. It was maddening to be kept in the dark as they were.

Markus shook his head. “Nothing yet. I will be here or in one of the antechambers, if you should need me.” He smiled again and left.

Ardhuin followed Dominic back inside and closed the door, looking at it thoughtfully.

“We need more information,” she said. “I have the feeling he might tell us something.”

“Perhaps.” Dominic did not look convinced. “I suspect they have been ordered to remain silent. My guard this morning barely spoke to me.”

Now that was remarkable. Dominic could get anyone to talk to him, even her.

“We could persuade him, I think, if the others couldn’t hear,” Ardhuin began.

Dominic interrupted, looking shocked and angry. “You aren’t thinking of letting him in here, are you?”

Ardhuin blinked. “No, of course not. I’d have to completely redo the wards.” Sometimes Dominic made absolutely no sense. “I have something that will disguise what we are saying. Would you find him and tell him we want to speak with him? I will join you shortly.”

Dominic sighed, then nodded and left the workroom. Ardhuin rummaged through the equipment she had brought with her until she found what she was looking for—a small, leather-covered box with a handle that looked like an ordinary travel case. Until now she had not understood why the obscurer had been given such a bland container, especially given the maker’s predilection for ornate ornamentation. Now, however, she knew. If the obscurer was being used, it could not draw attention to itself.

Then the small scrap of what appeared to be paper that she had been given earlier by the defensive magicians. The writing was familiar, and she wanted to question Markus about it.

She left the workroom carrying the box. Dominic and Markus Asgaya sat at a table in an alcove off the main hallway. It was a good location. The other defensive magicians would be able to see them and would not be suspicious.

Markus was relaxed and at ease, and stood courteously when she arrived. Dominic radiated a stiff prickliness that made her wonder if Markus had said something to offend him—or did Dominic object to Markus, to his Yunwiyan parentage? It seemed very unlike him.

Ardhuin sat down and opened the case. “This will make our conversation private,” she said as she took out the ivory pedestal, decorated by a twining gold vine. The pendular came next— gold on one end, clouded crystal on the other, and a long, narrow pin that rested on a cupped crystal at the top of the ivory pedestal. She set it in motion, watching it sway and spin in a way that always seemed like it was going to fall, but never did.

“What is that?” Markus asked, fascinated. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Ardhuin shrugged uncomfortably. “Schuyler Colfax made them for all the Mage Guardians. It was my great-uncle’s.”

“And what does it do?”

“Within a ten-foot radius, we cannot be overheard. Magic is blocked, and anyone listening by ordinary means would hear only murmured voices, with no words being distinguishable.”

Markus leaned back and crossed his long legs. “One might wonder what the Lady Magus would wish to discuss with me that the others could not hear.” He looked at her blandly.

How many times had she made the resolution to learn to tell convincing lies? Markus Asgaya was a magician at a major Aeropan court. Of course he would be suspicious.

Perhaps she should just abandon any pretense and tell the truth. It usually surprised people so much they did the same.

“They won’t tell me anything, and they won’t let me leave, either. If I’m supposed to uphold the compact all by myself, I need information.”

Markus drew back a little at her vehemence and did not look so relaxed any more. Ardhuin was somewhat surprised that her face didn’t feel at all hot and flushed. Usually arguing with people made her red as a beet.

“What do you want to know?” Markus said, raising his hands. “There’s quite a bit going on here, most of which is secret or confidential to some degree. I sympathize with your predicament, truly, but I am not in the Council’s confidence.”

Dominic shifted. “The assassination attempt. When did it happen? Why is such an effort being made to cover it up? We already know it happened, so you may as well tell us the rest.”

Markus glanced at Dominic and then at her, the lurking smile flitting over his face as if to appeal for mercy, but Ardhuin did not relent. He released a deep breath, then, and ran his hand over his chin.

“At first, because it was damn near successful. Then we started finding out more about it, and nothing made sense. The attempt took place when the King was riding in the park. At the very instant the shot was fired, the King inclined his head to better hear what someone was saying, so the bullet missed its mark and instead grazed his cheek, as you saw.” He nodded to Dominic. “After assuring his Majesty's safety, the guard immediately sealed off and searched the park—and found a known anarchist hiding in the shrubbery with a pistol that had recently been fired.”

He stopped and seemed to be at a loss how to proceed. “That sounds rather straightforward,” said Ardhuin. “Where was the difficulty?”

“It simply didn't add up,” he said, striking the edge of one hand into the palm of the other to emphasize each word. “The pistol was a very cheap, poor quality weapon. It could not have been fired with any degree of accuracy, when you take into account the distance between the King and the nearest available hiding place. Some said perhaps he had just gotten lucky.” Markus grinned. “Then, we got lucky—after a lot of work. We searched the entire area, crawling over every centimeter of ground. Someone found the bullet that had hit the King. We knew it was the right one when we did the spell to test for wounding, but the pyrometric spells said it had been fired five hours before. The bullet had suffered very little damage, and it was easy to tell it was the wrong type for that gun.”

Dominic leaned forward. He was curious now, and seemed to have forgotten his earlier unfriendliness. “How could you tell?”

“It had a metal casing. The anarchist’s gun was cheap, as I said. A favorite weapon of the criminal class, and it is intended also for cheap ammunition, which uses cardboard or wax paper for casing instead of metal. The bullet that struck the King could not have been fired from that gun.”

“Another gun, then.”

Markus frowned. “Clearly there must have been one, but we found no trace of it there, and the anarchist was captured immediately. No one else in the park was even in range. And there is one thing more. When we did the wounding spell, we noticed some interference, and we cut the bullet open. We found grains of lodestone mixed in the lead.”

Ardhuin drew a sharp breath. “That would only be useful in a magical field—it would not affect the firing of the weapon.”

“Precisely.” He sighed and ran his fingers along the edge of the table. ”After a lot of work, we think we know what happened. Another gun was indeed fired earlier, by someone else, and into a specially prepared stasis field. The bullet was released from stasis when the King went by.”

Ardhuin regarded him thoughtfully for a while. “You still aren't telling us everything. That would not have been enough. The bullet had to be aimed at one particular target, and he could have been anywhere on the path. They could not have known in advance. I think the release of the field, and the aim of the bullet, were linked to something on the King's person. Something planted there.” Markus' eyes narrowed, but he remained silent. “And the number of people who would have the necessary access is…not large. Probably politically sensitive, as well.”

Markus still had said nothing, but he didn't need to. Confirmation of what she had said was written on his face.

“What of your anarchist?” asked Dominic. “Did he have something to do with it, or was he just unfortunate?”

“He did, and he didn't,” responded Markus, a puzzled and unquiet look in his eyes. “He had some magical ability, but it was barely enough to give him work as a lamplighter—and he wasn't very good at that. He was even worse after a philogiston explosion at the lampworks that employed him. He recovered to some extent, but the accident seemed to have addled his wits and he couldn't light lamps any more. Even before the accident he would not have been able to set up a highly complex stasis field. And when we tried to question him,” he continued slowly, “we could get nothing. Not even lies. He simply could not speak. After finding the lodestone we did some investigation and discovered he has a geas on him.”

The word hit her like a blow. First she wondered, in horror, who would be casting geasi. Then she remembered she had. On Dominic.

“What is a geas?” he asked, and she flinched.

“A magical compulsion,” Markus answered.

“It is forbidden,” she managed to say.

“Yes, to all but a few extremely high-placed and trusted mages. The Mage Guardians, for example,” Markus said, bowing slightly in her direction. “It is even forbidden to teach it without permission.”

So her great-uncle had broken the law to teach her, but Oron was beyond their reach now. A Mage Guardian was allowed to cast a geas, but was she a real Mage Guardian? Would they even consider her a magician? Even if what she had done wasn’t illegal, would Dominic understand?

Talk of something else. Anything.

“Does anyone know what has become of the Gaulan mages who were not executed? Have they been kept track of?”

“Do you think they would have done it?” Markus looked horrified. “They had geasi on them, specifically to prevent this sort of thing from happening. Besides, most of them must be in their eighties, if they are even still alive.”

“It was the older, senior mages who were executed at the end of the war. The younger ones had not committed the same crimes, but that doesn't mean they didn't have the knowledge.”

“I still don’t understand why you called on the compact,” said Dominic. “Of course now you know someone has apparently been killing the Mage Guardians, but you didn’t know that at the time. Assassination is a serious thing, but you seem to be dealing with it well enough. How is it on the same level of the Mage War?”

Markus looked grim again, but he said nothing.

“They hinted at something more in the meetings I attended,” said Ardhuin. “He is right. If you have invoked the compact, I have a right to know the threat.”

“They will have my head for this,” he muttered, then made a sharp gesture of resignation. “It isn’t just the assassination attempt. If we had not been obscenely lucky, we would be at war now.”

“With Ostri?” asked Dominic, and Ardhuin remembered the newspaper accounts.

“Yes.” Markus sighed and gave a sardonic smile. “Our interminable bureaucracy saved us. One incompetent clerk was all that was needed. A message was put in the wrong box in the central mail facility, and the person who received it in error was an unimaginative, stuffy martinet who wanted to make an example of the unfortunate mail clerk. So instead of sending it on to the intended recipient, he raised a hue and cry and had it delivered to the purported sender, along with a masterpiece of pompous self-righteous verbiage in his own hand.”

“Something tells me you don't have a high opinion of this fellow,” observed Dominic.

Markus grinned. “An opinion shared by everyone who has to deal with him. Or so I have heard,” he added hastily. “That's when things got interesting. If the original message had gone to the right place and the orders in it had been acted on, troops would have been mobilized and moved into a restricted area near the border. That may not sound like a matter of much importance, but it would have been a direct contravention of several important treaties—more than enough to start a war, especially when the Ostri government had been told in advance this movement would occur.”

Dominic frowned. “I don't understand why the orders were given, then. Unless Preusa wanted to start a war.”

“Of course we don’t want a war! The orders were forged. Someone introduced those orders into the central mail facility—on the proper stationery, written in the proper language. It would not surprise me if the same person, or group, told the Ostri government. It was very well planned, and it would have been difficult to discover and stop if things had worked as intended.”

Ardhuin glanced at the other defensive magicians still about. They were talking amongst themselves and paying no particular attention to the group at the table. It was probably safe to speak, and she should warn Markus that he was personally threatened by this plot.

“I knew a message had gone astray, but I had not realized how this was all connected. It is more important than ever, then, that I show you this,” she said, drawing the odd piece of paper from her pocket. “You know they discovered the courier who had put the message in the box?” she asked Markus. He shook his head. “They searched his rooms and belongings and found a few unusual items that they handed to me. This is one of them.” She offered the strange paper to Markus, who looked at it. His face froze in shock.

“But I don't…I can't even….”

Ardhuin nodded vigorously. “I know. They either didn't look at it closely, or didn't recognize the language.” Seeing Dominic's puzzled expression, she added, “It is written in Yunwiyan. That would seem to indicate you were intended as a scapegoat. I know you didn't write it. You can't. I also know you would have no motive to conspire with Yunwiya against Preusa.”

Dominic shifted uneasily. “I am not saying he would, but it might appear…that is, if he has not been accepted in Preusa, they might think he would be angry enough to want to do something for Yunwiya, maybe to gain prestige when he returned.”

Ardhuin smiled sadly. “But he can't. Any more than you or I could. By Yunwiyan custom, he is considered full-blooded Preusan.”

Dominic looked puzzled. “His father was Yunwiyan, correct?”

“They count only relations on the female side. To them, he has no blood connection.”

Dominic considered this. “So…whoever planned this does not know much about Yunwiyan custom.”

Markus snorted. “That does not eliminate many people from the list. I would be doubly unwelcome in Yunwiya as a magician,” he added. “They regard Aeropan magic as unnatural, especially the magic of war.”

Ardhuin regarded him. “You must have enemies here.”

He spread his hands wide, still staring at the strange piece of paper lying on the table before him. It now had the look of polished wood. “Enemies…yes, but nothing on this scale! Only those who disliked my foreign blood, who wanted me to leave, but their dislike was open and easily dealt with.”

“The paper is illusioned!” Dominic burst out. “It takes on the appearance of whatever it touches.”

Ardhuin nodded. She looked at it more carefully. “Only on the one side, too. A very clever piece of work.”

Dominic took it in turn, staring at it in fascination, then turned it over. “There is illusion here, too,” he said, puzzled. “But where? It looks only like paper with writing.”

“Let me see.” She stared at it for a while, flattening it on the table. Making a circle of her hands, she let a very delicate haze of magic form, the antithesis of her usual illusion to cancel what was there. It caused the illusion on the paper to fade and disappear, and Aeropan letters replaced the Yunwiyan symbols. Holding her circled hands over the letter, she shifted so the others could view it. “Highly revealing, don't you agree?” Markus and Dominic peered over her shoulders. “What does it say?” she asked impatiently. “I can't hold the spell, decipher the writing and puzzle out the Preusan.”

“It is addressed to 'L,' ” said Markus promptly. “It says, 'We can still turn the park to our advantage. Give this letter to R to use against the mongrel—it will have its effect, and he will be further indebted to us. Remove this layer as a precaution, however.' The next paragraph…” Ardhuin shifted her hands. “ 'Send as many new “friends” as you can discover. The first blow is approaching quickly, and if Oron’s heir is not found, strength will be crucial. I will deal with any questions of sincerity in your candidates in my own fashion.' It is signed with a sigil I do not recognize,” he added in a voice devoid of emotion.

Ardhuin slowly flattened her hands together, thinking hard and feeling very cold. The message mentioned Oron by name, and her by reference. “A sigil. One magician to another. What a great deal of confirmation. This must have been sent shortly after the assassination attempt.”

Markus nodded slowly. “Which they wanted to have me blamed for.”

“Any of your enemies match this?”

“Evidently, at least one…no, none that make sense. There is one on the Council, von Rügen, who would give a great deal to be rid of me.”

“The initial matches,” pointed out Dominic.

Markus shook his head. “He hates me, but he is a rabid monarchist who lost several members of his family in the Mage War. I find it very hard to credit he would conspire to assassinate the King or the Mage Guardians.”

“A point.” Ardhuin conceded.

“It could have been used against me without connection to the assassination attempt. Simply finding a hidden message like that could end my career. They would never be entirely sure of me.” He looked at Ardhuin impassively. “I realize it will be necessary for you to disclose this information to the Council.”

She looked at the letter, thinking furiously. It was information, and information was power. Right now she had little of either. She returned it to her pocket. “I am not certain that is the best course. Clearly, these plotters want you out of the way; this leads one to think you are not one of them. This letter, and other evidence, does lead one to think that these people are either highly placed in the military or government, or have contacts there. I see no advantage in advertising how much we have discovered.”

“I should probably argue against it,” said Markus softly, “but I lack the will. I swear to you on my honor I am guilty of no conspiracy, and I will do anything in my power to help you uncover this one.”

Dominic did not look overly impressed. “Can you get us out of the Imperial Palace? We aren’t going to uncover much in our current situation.”

Markus steepled his fingers, eyes narrowing in thought. “We’d need a believable destination, one that would require the Mage Guardian’s personal attention….” He suddenly sat up. “I suppose your training covered the removal of geasi as well as their creation?” he asked, tilting his head at Ardhuin.

“W-well, yes, of course, but—” She hoped her face did not reveal her trepidation. Where was this going, and how could she stop it?

“Excellent.” Markus rubbed his hands together. “Let me see if I can persuade them to take you to our assassin-substitute.” He got out of his seat. “They are so desperate for information it may overcome their reluctance to let you travel.” He bowed and left.

“Do you dislike the idea?” Dominic asked after a short silence.

She should tell him. It was only about the roses. He would understand. Wouldn’t he?

“I dislike the entire affair,” Ardhuin snapped. How she wanted to just go home—except her unknown enemy would still attack her there. She had to continue. “My preferences are unimportant. We need to know more and this appears to be the only means by which we can obtain information.”

“The man they caught, the anarchist. Will you be able to help him? It must be horrible to have that kind of spell on you. He will undoubtedly be grateful, and more willing to answer your questions.”

She had to tell him. “He may not even be aware of the spell. They aren’t…if the geas isn’t forcing him to do something he dislikes, it is possible he doesn’t even know it is there.” Ardhuin swallowed, smoothing the fabric of her skirt with a shaking hand. “In fact—”

A stir of motion in the hallway caught her eye. A dark shape joined the other defensive magicians, but it wasn’t Markus. He was accompanied by a tall man in civilian clothes. One of the defensive magicians pointed their direction, and the two newcomers headed their way.

The defensive magician was someone she had not seen before, but the other man Ardhuin recognized as being a Council member, von Mittern. He was the one who had first objected to her youth. She didn’t like him or his profuse muttonchop whiskers.

She stopped the obscurer and placed the pieces back in their case, to forestall questions. Part of her was glad von Mittern had interrupted her confession, but another part was filled with dread. What did he want? He was smiling at her in what he probably thought was a fatherly way, an effort that lacked the necessary skill to be convincing.

“My dear Fraülein Andrews,” he began, in heavily accented Gaulan. “Will you permit me to introduce Schutzmagus von Pelow?” He indicated the defensive magician standing beside him.

Ardhuin nodded, feeling awkward. Von Pelow was a handsome, fair-haired young man with pale grey eyes. He had a carefully neutral expression as he bowed to her, but she had seen the faint flicker of revulsion when he looked at her. Something about him seemed familiar, besides his reaction. Most people in the Imperial Palace were better at hiding their opinion of her appearance, or perhaps they had merely become accustomed.

She glanced at Dominic. He didn’t seem to like von Pelow any more than von Pelow liked her.

“His Majesty has made clear your protection is of the highest importance. Schutzmagus von Pelow is one of our finest defensive magicians, and comes from a distinguished family that has long served the royal house. He would make a fine addition to your guard.”

Ardhuin blinked, astonished. It would appear von Mittern had accepted that the King was not going to make her leave and was now trying to curry favor—or perhaps he wanted von Pelow, for whatever reason, to have the prestige of being one of the defensive magicians guarding her.

She sighed. Court politics made her head hurt.

“I believe there is no need for any additional assistance, and if there is, I am not the one who selects the…Schutzmagus,” Ardhuin said, stumbling over the Preusan word.

Von Mittern waved away her objections. “A request from you would carry weight, I assure you, and he could replace a less able man. I understand Asgaya has been assigned,” he said, his tone conveying that he did not understand why such a mistake had been made. “I don’t see him here. I suppose he does not consider desertion of his post to be a serious matter, but what can you expect of such a one? Perhaps you don’t understand, my dear, but to a soldier that is a grave offense.”

Ardhuin found herself on her feet, hands clenched in fists. Von Mittern was tall, but she was gratified to find she could stare him directly in the eyes. “But I do understand. My brother is an officer in the Atlantean navy. I understand that making an unfounded accusation of that nature is a grave offense, as well.” Von Mittern started to sputter, but she continued, aghast at her own boldness. “Schutzmagus Asgaya is running an errand at my request. I have no complaint of his performance of his duties, and no interest in replacing him with anyone.” Her knees shook, and she dropped down on the sofa again to hide it.

Von Mittern was not giving up so easily. “You show a very unbecoming streak of independence, young woman. You should pay greater heed to the wisdom of your elders,” he said with a disapproving look.

“Is there a problem?” Gutrune von Kitren’s calm, quiet voice said unexpectedly.

Von Pelow turned his head sharply to look at her. Ardhuin drew a breath. Seeing them together, the resemblance was strong. Strangely, von Pelow looked angry—the first time he had allowed himself to openly show emotion.

Von Mittern didn’t look very happy either.

“We were discussing some needed changes in Fraülein Andrews’ guard,” he said.

“Do you wish any changes?” Gutrune asked Ardhuin in a mildly interested tone.

“No, I do not,” Ardhuin gritted.

“This is a matter of gravest importance to the security and defense of Preusa. We cannot risk having a foreigner in such a delicate position of trust,” von Mittern growled, his face growing darker.

“Foreigner? Are you referring to the Mage Guardian?” Dominic asked blandly. Ardhuin choked back a laugh.

Gutrune interrupted von Mittern’s convoluted apology and explanation. “If Fraülein Andrews has no complaint, there is no need to change the arrangements already made,” she said.

Von Mittern gave her a fulminating glare, a barely adequate bow, and left, followed by von Pelow with a set jaw.

Ardhuin looked up at Gutrune and gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you. I don’t know why he was so determined.”

Gutrune joined her on the sofa. “Schutzmagus von Pelow is his protegé. Serving on your guard could bring him to the notice of the King.”

That made sense. Von Pelow might not like her, but the position could bring the advancement he wanted.

“Is he related to you?” Ardhuin asked.

“My cousin,” Gutrune replied. Her face became even more expressionless. “He is very ambitious.”

“I am surprised Herr von Mittern did not argue with you,” Dominic commented.

Gutrune permitted herself a small smile. “I serve the King directly,” she said, indicating the small jeweled eagle pinned to one shoulder. “Herr von Mittern will not offend me if he can help it.”

Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. No wonder her cousin seemed so resentful. Ardhuin sighed and wished once again for the uncomplicated life she had led at Peran. So many things to remember, so many people with conflicting schemes.

“Have they decided yet what they want me to do?” she asked.

Gutrune shook her head. “You must understand the news of the deliberate murders of the Mage Guardians came as a shock. It changes many plans that had already been made.”

Down at the end of the hall, Markus Asgaya became visible, walking towards them with an energetic step. When he reached the alcove, he said, “Everything is arranged. They are most eager for your assistance. The Lady Magus is going to help with the prisoner,” Markus explained, seeing Gutrune’s questioning look.

Ardhuin felt her heart pound. She had forgotten about the purpose of his errand.

“I recommend that you use one of the side gates,” Gutrune remarked, rising. “A mob has formed in the square.”

Markus sighed. “What now?”

“They found another body outside the Closure,” Gutrune said, nodding farewell.