Kyale wondered if he’d changed his mind about sleeping and had found his way to the study to talk with Leander. Disappointment propelled her down the hallway as thunder rumbled through the stone around her.
She saw faint blue light glowing under Leander’s study door. She was right. Was she missing anything fun?
She opened the door, and stared. Leander wasn’t there. Senrid was, all right, but he’d fallen asleep in a chair, with one of Leander’s books in his lap, and over his shoulder casting its glow one of those tiny, cold blue zaplights that magic-workers made. Had Leander just left, then? In the faint light Senrid looked more than ever like a nice little brother, sitting there so peacefully with the open book, one hand on the page.
She pulled the book from his hands and put it on the table, and almost at once he stirred, then opened his eyes.
For a moment they stared at one another, Kitty in blank surprise. His gaze was wary, and cold, and narrowed; that and the smudges under his eyes made him look Leander’s age again.
But as she watched his face smoothed into friendliness again—a round-cheeked boy her age.
She didn’t know what to think—except that Leander couldn’t have left him alone. He had never left anyone in the study since she’d known him. “Leander doesn’t like anyone in here unless he’s here. I told you that,” she said.
Senrid’s brow puckered, and he looked very apologetic. “I’m sorry.” he replied. “I couldn’t sleep. And I really really wanted to see a magic book, so I thought it wouldn’t harm anything if I was very careful and didn’t disturb anything.”
Kitty was largely mollified. “Oh, it’s all right, I’ve done the same, truth to tell.”
“Really? He won’t teach you magic?”
“Oh, he would. He’d be happy to. But he insists I learn the basics. They are so boring! I only want to know a couple of spells—like how to make my gown clean without having to go upstairs and walk through my cleaning frame. Or the transport spell, when I don’t want to walk.”
Senrid gave her an absent smile, but as soon as they were out the door, he said, “Please don’t tell Leander. I won’t go in there unless he takes me, you can be sure of that.”
“I won’t,” Kitty said reassuringly. “Since you were asleep, I guess the storm isn’t bothering you, so I’ll see you in the morning.”
Senrid half-raised a hand, then trod down the hall to his room.
The next morning the weather was cold, heralding at last the end of summer. Kyale bounded out of bed and dressed hastily, running upstairs to the castle wall so she could feel the delicious coolness after days of hot stuffiness. The wind fingered through her hair, and she grinned up at the long bands of departing gray clouds.
A short time later she became aware of Senrid at her side, the wind snapping his shirtsleeves and blowing his hair about wildly.
“Llhei said I could find you up here,” he said. “You like this weather too?”
“Yes! It’s my favorite,” Kitty said.
“Say.” Senrid sat down on a stone crenellation, dangling his legs over the sheer drop and looking very much at home. “While we watch the weather change, tell me the story of your friend Faline.”
“Oh, Faline,” Kitty said, feeling that inward wrench of longing and envy. “She was so funny!”
“Did she talk about her kingdom?”
The envy soured into jealousy, and Kitty remembered something Leander had said. “Did she! Every other word was about the greatness of CJ and Clair—their princess and queen—and how smart they are and how much magic they know.”
“Well, tell me what happened when Faline came. I like your stories. And I envy you getting to live through such adventure.” He gave her his cheery smile.
Kitty’s jealousy winkled away, like a candle snuffed out. She settled onto the next crenellation, her feet resting inward on firm stone. She felt pleased and proud. “Where shall I begin? I was reading a history, oh, it was so exciting, all about…”
Senrid once again was a good listener, paying close attention to everything she said. He only interrupted once. “What was the guard’s number? His riding or wing?”
“I forget. And what’s a ‘riding-or-wing’?” Kitty saw disappointment in Senrid’s face, so she exerted herself to be more descriptive of those things she did remember: what she was wearing that day; Faline’s wildly curling hair; her funny talk; she was about to describe Faline’s shape-changing, but hesitated, remembering how much Faline hated that part of her background. So she said vaguely, “There was magic, and it was so weird to see two Leanders.”
After she finished with several gloating comments about how stupid the Marlovens were to be fooled so easily, Senrid said, “That was a great story. How did Leander manage to get rid of the evil mages at the pass?”
“I don’t know. That’s all boring magic talk.”
“I think I’ll ask him,” Senrid said, swinging his legs around.
“Oh, don’t bother him now.” Kitty waved her hands. “He’ll be busy with morning boredom.”
“Well, maybe company will make it less boring,” Senrid pointed out.
Kitty crossed her arms. “Have fun,” she said, and she turned around to face into the wind.
She hoped he’d apologize, or at least wait there until she turned, but after the silence had gone on too long for that, she flung her hair back and sneaked a peek, to find that she was alone.
Well, huh. She’d stay there and wait. After all, maybe Senrid would find Leander so boring with his everlasting blather about magic, and history, and what if?s that he’d be glad to come back and hear more stories from someone with a real imagination.
And maybe Leander would find him a mere interruption, and send him away.
Leander was in the kitchen, trying to wake himself up with something hot to drink.
The door opened and Senrid came in, his face pleasant and friendly. “Mind company?”
Leander shrugged. “Help yourself.” Truth be told, he’d rather Senrid kept Kitty happy, so he could catch up on what he’d meant to work on the night before. But he’d gotten distracted talking to Alaxandar and Arel and a few of the old guard about how to go about protecting a country that was—at best—the size of a duchy, and a small one at that, against a huge warrior kingdom like Marloven Hess.
We can patrol the hills from now until the dawn of the next world, but what if they come over with an army we can’t fool? Pertar had asked.
If we even see them first! We don’t have enough people to cover all the ancient roads as well as the pass—they could come in south of us when we’re north, or north when we’re busy patrolling south, Arel had added.
Leander had no answer.
The clink of silver brought his attention back.
He was not being a good host. Even though he didn’t really know how to entertain a kid Kitty’s age whose interests had to be completely different from hers, he had to try.
When he looked up, Senrid said, “Kyale tells me you study history.”
Leander shook his head. “I’d like to study history,” he amended. “Right now about all I have time for is trying to correct my ignorance on this or that thing. I’ve begun some reading about the old kingdom, of which Vasande was once a province—” He waved a hand, realized he still had some bread in it, and dropped the bread on his plate. “Never mind. Kitty says I go on about that boring stuff too much.”
“I don’t find it boring,” Senrid said. “Old kingdom as in Iasca Leror? Or not so old, as in Marloven Hess?”
“So you know something about our history?”
Senrid flexed his hands, his gaze on his plate. “I hear things. And remember them.”
Leander sighed. “I wish I had a better memory. Well, I do have a good enough one, but I suspect I try to do too many things at once. I like reading history when I can. By which I mean not just getting the time, but access to books. They are costly, and we have a lot of repair ahead before I can replace what Mara Jinea burned.”
&
nbsp; “She burned history books?” Senrid asked, plainly disgusted.
Leander was relieved to find that the kid and he had something in common to talk about; the polite banter of a court was not a skill he’d ever learned. In fact, talking to others his age and younger had been a rarity after Mara Jinea made certain that his first few friends among leading families, back when he was seven or eight, all mysteriously disappeared, either sent away to study—or exile.
“You know your recent history,” Senrid pointed out. “Kyale told me about it yesterday. Mara Jinea, obsidian crowns—it was exciting!”
Leander laughed. “Exciting to live through, too.”
“What I wondered was, how did you figure out that Kyale had the enchantments keyed on her?”
“You know something about magic?” Leander countered, surprised.
Senrid shrugged. “Only what I hear. Like, someone told me that enchantments have to be keyed to something, usually an object, though sometimes on people.”
“Most don’t know that much. Think it’s all random spells. Kitty herself—well, anyway, no, I didn’t figure that out. To tell you the truth, it was completely by accident that we found out. I almost destroyed everything by rescuing Kitty from her mother. My purpose was just to give her a chance at a real life, and don’t think some of my own people weren’t annoyed.”
“You’d had no idea, then?”
“I’d thought Mara Jinea’s obsidian crown was the key. She kept it locked up and guarded. Looking back, her reasoning is clear, and cold as frostbite. She keyed the enchantments on Kyale because she didn’t think we’d ever guess they’d be on a person—” He paused, looking a question.
Senrid said, “I was told that keying enchantments on a person is dangerous since the easiest way to break a key is to destroy it.”
“Yes. I’ll add to that you can only force a person to be a key with dark magic. White magic won’t do it, takes more power than mages are willing to spend, even if there was no danger.”
Senrid said, “So Mara Jinea keyed her spells on Kyale.”
“She thought the risk small because she controlled Kitty, and because she didn’t think her daughter had any importance to anyone. People didn’t, to Mara Jinea, except as channels to power. I guess that’s common to dark magic mages, from what I’ve read. That’s why white magic has more safeguards, to protect people. But it does take longer to do small things. Anyway, seems like dark magic learning selects for the power-grabbing sort of mage.”
“Interesting,” Senrid said. “So you’d throw away power if you could?”
“No—yes—I don’t know. Power for power’s sake, that holds no appeal. I do what I was raised to do. If someone better comes along, I think I could hand it all over and not look back.” Leander looked up at the windows. Just then the light streaming in was muted as a cloud obscured the sun. “I think I could, but I don’t know if I’d as easily give up my home. And I know Kitty couldn’t.” He shrugged. “Does that answer your question ‘too much’?” Senrid gave a quick grin. “Kyale might think so, but I don’t.”
“In that case come along, if you like. I’ve got to get through some work today, and I can pull down some records relating to use of light magic you might like to look through.”
“Sure.”
Leander led the way out. In the hallway, he saw a golden streak flash by him, and then he was stunned to see Senrid pressed against the wall, a growling young lion standing before him.
“Conrad,” Leander said sharply.
The animal’s ears twitched, but the yellow eyes stayed focused on Senrid, who did not move. The sight of those long white teeth made Leander back up to the kitchen, slam open the door, and yell, “Get Kyale!”
For a protracted stretch of time no one moved, neither animal nor human. Leander watched in dismay, after trying futilely to distract the lion, who until now had seemed uncannily prescient.
Of all Kyale’s pets, he was the one who seemed to hear humans Kitty certainly thought he did; Leander was ambivalent. Now he knew that having a lion as a pet was, in fact a very bad idea, and that Conrad might for some reason like Kitty and tolerate everyone else, but nothing would change the truth:he was a wild animal. One who didn’t like strangers. Kitty finally appeared, breathing hard. “Conrad!” She flung herself on the lion. Leander winced as the wedge-shaped head jerked, sharp teeth showing, but then, miraculously, the hackled fur laid itself flat and Conrad’s growl turned into a long, moaning yeowl.
“Bad kitty,” Kyale said, hands on her hips. “That’s not the way we treat people.” Kyale shot fulminating glances at both Leander and Senrid, and Leander wondered if his stepsister had sicced the beast onto the poor kid. It was obvious that she was irritated with Senrid. For deserting her company for Leander’s? Probably.
Leander sighed as Kyale clapped her hands sharply. “Come, Conrad. We’ll go somewhere else.”
The lion padded after the girl, and Senrid let out a long, shaky breath. “Well, that was one way to wake up.”
“I’m sorry,” Leander said, wondering if he ought to explain about Kyale’s likely jealousy. He decided he would only if the kid demanded an explanation.
Senrid wiped his hair back, shook his head, then said, “Do they do that often?” He gave a lopsided smile. “Or just when Kyale gets miffed with someone?”
So Kitty was obvious even to a stranger. Leander felt his annoyance switch from Kitty to Senrid, and he berated himself for being unreasonable. It was no more than the truth—but he didn’t like anyone saying it out loud. “Never done it before,” Leander said slowly, choosing his words.
But Senrid seemed satisfied with that. “How about a look at those records?”
Relieved, Leander said, “Come this way.”
They walked up to the library first—the old Tlennen-Hess library, with its comfortable furniture for reading.
“I don’t have many books,” he said apologetically. “Like I said, Mara Jinea destroyed anything to do with recent history, and all her magic books. I have my father’s, thanks to Alaxandar, which I keep in my own study. The ones in here are old histories. A few local. Most are the old ones about Sartor everyone learns, and a few copies of personal records.”
Senrid ran his finger along the titles hand-written in gold ink on the spines of the books.
He made a couple choices, and then Leander said, “I usually work in my study next door.” Senrid followed.
Leander opened the door, and glanced at his guest, who scanned around with interest—and focused, for a brief moment, on the desk.
Then Senrid looked up, saw Leander watching, and grinned. “A real magic library,” he said. “I always wanted to see one. I meant to ask Kyale about it last night, when I saw her here, but I was too tired.”
Kyale had been in his study? Why? “You can see it now. Grab a chair anywhere, while I dig into this pile I should have finished off last night.”
Senrid dropped into a chair.
Leander sat down at his desk, assessing his piles. His thoughts whirled away like fireflies winking out when he noticed the slim blue volume lying on the edge of the desk.
Leander frowned. He knew he hadn’t gotten any of those particular books down, not for some weeks. Which one was it? The old blue ones his father had inherited from his grandmother.
He slid the book over, and looked down at the title.
Perimeters, Boundaries, and Wards
FIVE
So had Kitty been nosing again?
But why would she be interested in protective wards?
Deciding to ask her at dinner, Leander shoved the matter from his mind and picked up the top paper from the pile awaiting his attention.
Senrid read quietly while Leander worked—and from the sound of rustling pages, he read very fast. When he’d finished his two books he returned them to the library and came back with two more. He never glanced once at the books on Leander’s magic library shelves.
As usual, the sun setting took Leander b
y surprise, but at least this time he felt he’d gotten caught up with the most pressing demands. How grateful he was that being a king in a tiny kingdom like Vasande precluded tiresome agony like keeping court! The Guildhouse in Crestel, and the Mayor, were all the ‘court’ Leander needed; his responsibilities with respect to trade, and law, extended to interviewing them twice a week, once he’d gone over these stacks of reports they scrupulously sent.
Magic was entirely his responsibility.
And defense, alas.
When he suggested dinner, Senrid closed his book and rose politely. They ran downstairs, and Leander felt his appetite waken when he smelled braised onions and baked redspice chicken.
“Hoo,” he said. And, with an apologetic glance at his guest, “If you’d wanted lunch, I wish you’d spoken up. I tend to forget things like meals.”
“I’m used to that,” Senrid said, grinning.
Leander glanced at Senrid, seeing for the first time that he was not just short but thin. He laughed. “Two of a kind,” he said.
They reached the dining room, to find that they were alone. “Is Kitty around?” he asked the cook’s daughter, Nelyas.
“Llhei says she’s sick,” the girl responded. “I’m taking a tray up soon’s you have what you want here.”
Sick, or sulking? Leander frowned, but said nothing more about Kitty. He turned to Senrid. “So what were you reading?”
Senrid heaped chicken over braised potato as he said, “History of your split from the empire. Why did Mara Jinea destroy recent records?”
“Um,” Leander said. “I wasn’t familiar with the library before she got to it. The few that Mara Jinea did not throw in the fire all had to do with ancient treaties. I don’t know what she was trying to hide.”
“What makes you think she was hiding anything?”
“Why else destroy knowledge except to keep it from anyone else? She wasn’t born here, but suddenly appeared at court. I strongly suspect that she was sent by the old monster next door.” Leander jerked his thumb westward. “There might even be some kind of twisted family connection, or some underhanded secret deal she didn’t want anyone finding out. I’m almost certain that she was planning some dirty-work with the Marloven king concerning our shared border-mountains, which the Marlovens supposedly want for ore mining.”