Fortune and Fate

“This is a fine set,” he said as Jasper took his usual seat. “Was it Rayson’s?”

“My own,” Jasper said. “I brought it with me when I arrived. I like familiar things around me, and beautiful things, and things with value. I haven’t had much opportunity to play, however, so you are doing me a great kindness tonight.”

Zellin gave a noncommittal grunt. “Do you play for stakes?” he asked.

“Always,” Jasper replied.

Wen couldn’t help glaring at the back of his head. He hadn’t played for stakes with her, or she’d be a few coins richer by now.

Then Jasper added, “Though the stakes aren’t always money.”

Banlish grunted again. “What else can you bet?”

“It’s not what you bet,” Jasper said, “it’s what you hazard.”

Banlish looked up from the board to give Jasper one hard, irritable look. “You’re as odd as Serephette Fortunalt when you talk like that.”

“Serephette was formed by a torturous life,” Jasper replied. “All of us are shaped to some extent by forces outside our control. And to some extent by our passions—the ones we govern and the ones we allow to run unchecked.”

Zellin looked even more irritated. “Do you always talk this much nonsense?” he demanded.

Jasper gave a light laugh. “Pretty much.”

The serlord made his first move, a fairly standard one, from what Wen could determine. “Well, I don’t mind the talking, because it won’t distract me from the play, but choose a subject that’s a little more coherent.”

“I defer to you. Name a topic.”

Zellin laughed shortly. “Demaray Coverroe.”

“A most agreeable lady.”

“Pretty enough,” Zellin agreed, “but flighty. How long has her husband been dead now? She needs a man to settle her down.”

“Do you think so? I’ve always thought she handled her affairs with a great deal of aplomb,” Jasper replied. He was studying the board, taking time to consider his own move.

Zellin snorted. “Beggared herself to build that house, or very nearly. Though it’s a magnificent place, I’ll give her that. I borrowed her architect when I wanted to make improvements to Banlish Manor.”

Jasper Paladar did not answer until he had shifted a few of his swords and soldiers into position. “Did you make those improvements before or after you had been elected to the serlordship?” he asked.

“After,” Zellen said with a snort. “I did not consider my title secure till I had gone to the royal city and presented myself to the queen.” He shrugged. “Though it wasn’t Amalie who actually passed judgment on any of the new serlords. It was Cammon.”

Jasper looked up, surprise on his face. The expression was perfectly presented, but Wen had the feeling that he was pretending—that this was something he had known all along. She grew even more interested in the conversation. “The royal consort?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

Zellin made a rude noise. “You know what they say about him. He’s a mystic.”

“A reader. Yes.”

“Well, every serlord or serlady chosen by their fellows had to make their way to Ghosenhall to be approved by royalty. Everyone thought it was a formality, of course. But in we went, one by one, and made our bows. Amalie just sat there, looking like a child—I swear she could pass for fifteen. Cammon asked a few questions, but Amalie didn’t say a word.”

“What did he ask?”

Zellin gestured impatiently with the hand hovering over the cruxanno board. “Did you fight in the war, did you support Rayson Fortunalt, are your estates in good order, are you loyal to the queen? What a waste of time. I kept wishing they would just approve me and let me leave. There was so much to do back in Fortunalt. Gods and goddesses, the whole region was in disarray! Households bankrupted, hundreds of lives lost, brigands loose on the roadways. I was impatient to be home and beginning the real work of restoration, not answering the aimless questions of upstart royalty. But there were Riders in the room, ready to pounce at the smallest insult, and so I showed nothing but respect.”

This extraordinary speech left Wen first angry, and then fighting hard to hold back mirth. Clearly Zellin Banlish had never been witness to Cammon’s astonishing ability to read the souls of the people before him. And clearly he had no understanding of what secrets in his own heart had made Cammon determine that he was worthy of the serlordship. Cammon would not have been dismayed at all to learn that Zellin Banlish was eager to get home and begin rebuilding—he would have been pleased to know that Banlish felt such great dedication and devotion to his land. Zellin Banlish was bullheaded and unpleasant, but he possessed traits that would serve a serlord well, and those were the only traits Cammon had cared about.

“What did you say when he asked if you had supported Rayson in the war?” Jasper asked curiously.

“The truth! That I thought the man mad. I wouldn’t give him a copper except what he managed to tax from all of his vassals, and I rode my estates every day, forbidding the young men to sign up as soldiers. Half of them did it, anyway, of course, but I think I kept a few out of his army.”

“Cammon was probably very glad to hear that.”

Zellin shrugged. He had finally decided where to station the bulk of his army, and he was busy arranging shields. “He was such a strange and wide-eyed thing. I’m not sure he really understood a word I said.”

“If the stories they tell of him are true, he understood everything you said and did not say,” Jasper replied. “It’s said he reads minds.”

“And credulous fools believe it,” was Zellin’s sneering answer.

“You don’t fear mystics?” Jasper asked.

“Don’t fear them, don’t hate them, don’t think about them one way or the other,” Zellin said. “A man who can read minds—ridiculous! They say that Senneth Brassenthwaite can start a fire with her bare hands, and Kirra Danalustrous can take any shape she chooses, but I’ve never seen anyone do such things. I think all this outcry over mystics is nothing more than people indulging themselves with a little hysteria.”

Wen slanted a look over at Moss, whose face bore the faintest smile.

“Well, it’s true we haven’t had many mystics to marvel over here in Fortunalt, since Rayson drove them all off,” Jasper replied. He was lining up his own shields, though Wen couldn’t tell much of his strategy from this angle. “Still, I believe their powers are sometimes great—and that Cammon’s are remarkable.” His arrangements done, he sat back in his chair. “Which leads me to wonder what he read in the Tilt and Gisseltess candidates that made him refuse to ratify their appointments.”

Zellin shrugged. “Not my land. Not my business.”

Jasper steepled his hands. “I wonder if it is your business—if perhaps he meant to send a message to the new serlords that the crown was going to stay involved in the lives of the nobility. Perhaps those rejected lords were sacrificed to the crown’s desire to show it was retaining its power.”

Zellin was concentrating on the board. “I read the charter. All of us did—the new serlords, I mean. The titles are irrevocable. Even if Amalie doesn’t like what we do, she can’t take away our lands now.”

“No, you misunderstand,” Jasper said, very gently. “The rules for governance are based on the charter for the marlords.”

“Yes, of course,” Zellin said impatiently. “The queen can’t take away their status, either.”

“She can’t abolish the title,” Jasper corrected. “But she can remove the man.”

Now Zellin looked up from the board. “What are you talking about?”

Jasper was still leaning back at ease in his chair, his fingertips still placed precisely together in the way that meant he was prepared to deliver a lecture. “If Malcolm Danalustrous were suddenly to go on a rampage and start murdering tenants and torturing children, you can believe that Amalie would send her Riders to Danan Hall immediately to take him into custody. She would strip the title of marlord from him—she is within her legal rights to do so. But she cannot vacate the title itself, and she cannot dictate the next heir. Malcolm can be seized, but not the House. His daughter would instantly take the title. And if his daughter was unfit, the next heir would be found, and so on down the line until there was one the crown deemed suitable.”

Zellin stared. “That’s not true.”

“I assure you, it is.”

“Then why didn’t Baryn strip Rayson and Halchon of their marlord-ships before they took Fortunalt and Gisseltess into battle against him?”

“I never had the honor of a conversation with Baryn, but I have to assume that by the time he realized they were planning such an assault, they already had too much power for him to be able to enforce such mandates.”

“So you’re telling me I’m not secure in my new title,” Zellin said with a great deal of dissatisfaction. “Then what did the Thirteenth House lords fight for? Why all these summits and all these petitions to the crown if we are not going to be able to command our own destinies after all?”

“But you are,” Jasper said. “As long as you mind your land and behave with honor, you are in no danger of losing your Manor.”

“I don’t like it,” Zellin said, still displeased. “I’ll feel like I’m being watched and judged every moment.”

“All of us are watched and judged every moment,” Jasper said lightly. “Titled or not, we have to earn—and continue to earn—our place in the world on a daily basis.”

Zellin made an indeterminate sound to indicate his impatience with such fancy reasoning. “Stupid talk,” he said. “Make your play.”

Jasper sat forward, quickly moved a line of shields, and leaned back again. “I’m sorry you find my conversation tiresome,” he said pleasantly. “I confess Karryn finds me bewildering as well.”

Zellin was scowling; Wen guessed Jasper’s game strategy had surprised him. “And I still don’t understand why you’ve been installed at Fortune,” he said, harking back to his observation over dinner. “Obviously Serephette isn’t fit to be a guardian for a serramarra, but you—” He shook his head.

Jasper said, very softly, “I was chosen by the royal consort.”

That made Zellin look up again. “What?”

“Much like the serlords, a handful of Thirteenth House nobles from Fortunalt were summoned to Ghosenhall shortly after the war. Amalie had decided that the heirs of Fortunalt and Gisseltess needed someone to tend them until they turned twenty-one since their fathers had died in the conflict. In Gisseltess, of course, the young serramar had their mother to guide them—”

“And Nate Brassenthwaite,” Zellin spit out. “Once the marlady was misguided enough to marry him.”

“But, as you say, Serephette does not inspire people with the utmost confidence in her ability to manage an estate. The queen was looking for a guardian who could oversee the region until Karryn attains her majority.” He paused for effect, though Zellin’s attention was back on the board. “Cammon is the one who interviewed me. Like you, I was amazed at his youth and his boyish manner. But unlike you, I was impressed at his thoughtfulness and insights. I thought him an extraordinary young man, to tell you the truth. I would not like him to make a judgment against me—I imagine it would be implacable.”

Zellin was ranging his soldiers along a previously undefended border. “Well, he judged in favor of you, I suppose, and here you are,” he said without interest.

“Yes,” said Jasper. “Here I am.”

Zellin studied his position for a moment, nodded, and said, “It’s your turn.”

Again, Jasper made a swift, unconsidered move, and Zellin gave him a look of bafflement.

“Have you ever attempted this game before?” the serlord demanded. “Your strategy is lunatic.”

“I am trying a new style of play tonight,” Jasper replied. “But I confess, I’m distracted by a raging thirst. Willa, could you see if Bryce is near enough to send for refreshments?”

Bryce, of course, was too young to be up this late or trusted with carrying trays full of delicate glassware, but Wen went to the door and found Bryce lurking outside. He was dressed in a small jacket that must have been cut down from a footman’s discarded uniform, and a pearl-sewn sash made a bright slash across his chest. Nonetheless, he was yawning as he slumped against the wall, waiting to be called.

Wen repressed a smile and said, “My lord has asked you to bring refreshments.”

That filled him with energy, and he dashed off. He returned moments later bearing a tray of wine and after-dinner sweets. Jasper had pulled up a second table near the cruxanno board and watched in some amusement as Bryce slowly lowered his burden, spilling nothing.

“Excellent, Bryce,” Jasper said. “You will make a fine footman someday.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Bryce said.

“You can see he’s an unusual boy,” Jasper said, now addressing Zellin, who had not, in fact, shown any signs of noticing Bryce at all. “A mystic, though you profess not to believe in them.”

That did make the serlord glance up, give Bryce one sweeping and unimpressed inspection, and return his attention to the game board. “He tells you that, I suppose.”

“No, he proves it! Come, Bryce, let’s show this skeptic what a reader like you is capable of.”

“I am not interested in demonstrations, thank you all the same.”

“Oh, this is very quick and most eye-opening, I assure you.” Jasper picked up his small jeweled crown from the board—the most valuable piece in the game—and tossed it from hand to hand. “Look away,” he commanded Bryce, who obediently turned around. “Really, Zellin, watch this. You’ll be amazed. Which hand am I holding the crown in?”

“Your left.”

Jasper switched hands. “And now?”

“Your right.”

Jasper settled the crown in the middle of his graying brown hair. “And now?”

Bryce laughed. “It’s on top of your head.”

Jasper tilted his chin and caught the game piece as it slid off his forehead. “You see?” he said to Zellin. “He is never wrong.”

“How can you possibly expect me to be impressed by such a bit of foolery?” Zellin demanded. “You could have rehearsed that before I arrived. That’s hardly any proof of magic.”

“You try it,” Jasper said. He handed over his crown as carelessly as if it hadn’t been the object of all Zellin’s plotting for the last half hour. “Tell him when you’re ready for him to speak.”

Zellin sighed in irritation, closed his fingers over the crown and said, “Tell me, then.”

“Your right hand, my lord.”

“You see?” said Jasper.

“A lucky guess.”

“Try it ten times over and see how lucky he is.”

Grumbling and rolling his eyes, Zellin did so, and his frown actually grew blacker every time Bryce was correct. On the ninth try, he silently handed the game piece back to Jasper, then focused his suspicious eyes on Bryce’s shoulders.

“Lord Jasper has it now,” Bryce said confidently.

Jasper laughed and negligently flicked the piece up in the air, catching it in his right hand. “Enough of a demonstration for you?” he said. “It’s a startling sort of magic, isn’t it? And, of course, Bryce’s abilities are insignificant compared to Cammon’s.”

Zellin looked angry, but also a little discomfited. Wen imagined he was thinking back to his audience with Cammon and feeling just a little uneasy about what he might have revealed, all unknowing. “It doesn’t matter,” he said defiantly. “I have nothing to conceal.”

Jasper nodded toward the door. “Thank you, Bryce. Off to bed with you now, I think.” He waited until Wen had shut the door behind the boy, and then he turned back to Jasper. “Nothing to conceal?” he repeated in a pleasant voice. “I suppose your son does not confide in you, then.”

Wen tensed and straightened, her hands moving closer to her weapons. After an evening of meandering and innocuous conversation, it appeared Jasper was suddenly ready to open battle with a heavy salvo.

“Tover?” Zellin said in blank surprise. “I suppose he has secrets from me, as any young man might, but—What are you saying, Paladar?”

“Karryn identified him as the man who abducted her, intent on marrying her to gain the title of marlord.”

“That’s a lie!” Zellin roared, coming to his feet with a dagger in his hand. Wen flew to his side, knocking him in the chest so hard that he tripped over his chair and fell heavily to the floor. His dagger skittered away to land against a bookcase near the far wall. Moss, as prearranged, had dashed over to defend Jasper. Wen stood over Zellin, her own knife drawn, ready to inflict real damage if he made another offensive move.

“Call off your guard,” Zellin snarled, giving Wen an ugly look but making no effort to rise. “But if you don’t withdraw your accusation against my son, I’ll have your blood. And I mean it.”

“Willa, let him get up and take his chair,” Jasper said. He waited until Zellin was seated, Wen hovering mere inches away, before he added, “But I do not recant my statement. Tover kidnapped Karryn. He was assisted by a large, bald, brutish man named Darvis—I see by your expression that you recognize the description. They appeared to be carrying her northwest from Forten City. You have property in that corner of the region, do you not?”

“You lie,” Zellin said. But Wen thought he was shaken. “Your ward has set herself to ruin my son. If you publicly accuse him, I will ruin you. Don’t think I can’t.”

“I have very little that you can take away from me, so I am not particularly worried,” Jasper replied. “But you might notice that I have not, so far, said a word against your son to anyone, not even Karryn’s mother. I have no desire to cast aspersions on the whole rank of serlords, so new to their positions and fighting so hard for acceptance from both the Twelfth and Thirteenth Houses. I will not embarrass you by calling him to account—but I require you to do so.”

“What do you expect of me?” Zellin said gruffly.

“Cast him off,” Jasper said. “I do not know who your next heir is, but there should be a formal announcement that Tover is passed over—though you need not name the reasons.”

Zellin stiffened in his chair. “I will not do it,” he said. “Not on so little evidence. I will ask him, and if he admits it, then I will consider what you say, but I—”

“I will take my case to Ghosenhall,” Jasper said calmly. “I will lay the matter before Cammon and ask him to adjudicate. No doubt he will summon you and your son immediately to the royal city.” He gestured at the door. “You saw how easily Bryce was able to read your actions, and he is just a small boy with a modest amount of magic. Cammon will be able to read your soul—and your son’s soul. Tover is no longer your heir, Zellin. Either you make that decision, for reasons you need not disclose, or the crown will make it, and possibly publish the reason. Those are your only two options.”

Very neatly done! Wen thought with real admiration. It reminded her irresistibly of the game strategy she had employed in her own cruxanno competition with Jasper. Spin out the game interminably, lay out all the pieces in a manner that seemed completely random, and then, with a single move, destroy the unprepared opponent. Zellin could fight and lose, or he could surrender and save some dignity. He could not win.

“I will speak to my son,” Zellin ground out. His hands were clenched upon the armrests of the chair; Wen saw his nails bite through the tapes-tried fabric. “If he admits what you tell me is true—then I will disinherit him. But if you speak of this to another living soul—”

“Only the crown,” Jasper said. “And only if necessary.” He seemed to be struck by a new thought. “Oh—and if Tover attempts any such course of action again, with my ward or any young woman, I will, of course, be compelled to speak up.” He smiled at Zellin. “But I am sure you have ways to ensure that Tover never has the liberty or means to behave in such a fashion again.”

“Yes,” Zellin snapped, “you can be sure I know how to control my son.”

“Well, then,” Jasper said, reaching for one of the bottles of wine. “Shall we refresh ourselves? All this talk has made me thirsty.”

Keeping a wary eye on Wen, Zellin came slowly to his feet. “No wine for me, Paladar,” he said. “And no more cruxanno, either. It is too late to call for my carriage, or I would not even spend the rest of this night under your roof. I will be gone in the morning before you rise and I hope not to see you again anytime in the near future. You or your ward,” he added.

Without another word, he stalked straight for the door. Wen had to follow him, of course, for it was clear to her that he could not be left unguarded for the rest of his stay in the house; no doubt she would be spending the night dozing in the hall outside his bedroom. But at the door, she briefly turned to give Jasper one quick, appraising look, all her wonder and admiration visible on her face. He caught her expression and grinned, exultant as a boy who had won his first game of skill against a much older and more seasoned opponent.