Juliet McKenna - The Warrior's Bond

Casuel took the parchment from the younger man’s hands. “And the first was acclaimed as what?”

“Decabral the Eager. Then the Patient, the Nervous,”

Temar smiled again. “The Virtuous, the Pitiless, whom the Houses deposed after a couple of years, and lastly the Merciful. But do not ask me who was whose brother, son or cousin, I beg you.”

“Getting the rote correct is sufficient.” Casuel tried to sound encouraging.

“Sauzet next, the Worthy and the Quiet.” Temar ticked the names off on his fingers. “They were shoved off the Imperial cushions by Perinal the Bold, who found himself edged out by Leoril the Wise.”

“I see no need for flippancy,” commented Casuel. “Next?”

“Leoril the Dullard.” Temar looked at me but the question died on his lips as he caught Casuel’s sour expression. “Leoril the Eloquent, Leoril the Affable. Then Aleonne the Valiant.” He fell silent.

“Acclaimed the Valiant when the Lescar Wars rose to such a pitch they spilled over our western borders,” I prompted. “So we needed Aleonne the—?”

“Sorry.” Temar drew a sudden breath. “Aleonne the Defiant, the Resolute and then Aleonne the Gallant.”

“You need to know more detail of events after that.” Casuel sorted through books stacked neatly before him, sparing a disapproving glance for the untidy array by Temar’s elbow. He handed one over with evident reluctance. “Annals of Tor Bezaemar. Read as much as you can, and do be careful, it’s my own copy and such things are expensive.”

Temar turned the pristine tome in his hands. “I thought Inshol the Curt succeeded the last Aleonne.”

“Correct.” I nodded my own approval at Temar. Once we’d left Bremilayne behind us and travelled without incident for a few days, Casuel’s fears of being called on actually to make magic had faded. Then he’d applied himself to teaching Temar everything he might conceivably need to know for a visit to Toremal and plenty he’d have no use for as well. I was impressed to see how much the lad had learned. After long days in the saddle on our interminable journey across the highlands, the last thing I’d have wanted was a tutor like Casuel, his charmlessness woefully exacerbated by leagues jolted along in a carriage shared with Avila Tor Arrial. Temar and I had stuck to our horses.

“And when he died, his relict married the Sieur Den Bezaemar, who became?” The wizard wasn’t about to give up.

“Bezaemar the Modest,” said Temar after a pause. “His son was Bezaemar the Canny, who must have seemed like a permanent fixture after reigning for nearly fifty years. His grandson was Bezaemar the Generous, then the Princes wanted someone less free-handed with their coin and chose Tadriol the Thrifty. Thrifty but none too healthy, so his brother soon stepped up as Tadriol the Staunch. He stepped down after a handful of years, but Convocation picked the wrong nephew because Tadriol the Tireless dropped dead in under a year. They had better luck with his brother the Prudent, who ruled for eleven years and was already well provided with children, including your current Emperor Tadriol, his third son, acclaimed the Provident last year!” He grinned at Casuel.

“The rote is correct but please keep facetious comments to yourself.” Casuel shot me an indignant glance. “I imagine that’s your interpretation?”

“We had to talk about something as we rode,” I shrugged. We’d used the time to review the previous day’s lessons and to talk about family, friends, life in Kellarin and in Tormalin. With Casuel sitting on his dignity in his coach, we’d reaffirmed our tentative friendship and incidentally smoothed the most jarring archaisms out of Temar’s speech.

“Well, I hope you took note of the insignia of the Imperial Houses as I told you to, Temar.” Casuel reached across the table for a roll of parchments laced together across their top with scarlet ribbon. “You need to study this as well. I’ve asked the Archivist for a copy but he says all the scribes are too busy with the courts sitting, so you’ll have to make your own.” He handed over paper and a charcoal stick in a silver holder.

Temar looked blankly at the tightly drawn columns of names and figures, little heraldic symbols heading each entry. “What is this?”

“Last year’s Land Tax register.” Casuel stared at Temar.

“There was no such thing in the Old Empire,” I reminded the wizard. “Each House and Name pays an annual charge to the Imperial coffer, based on its holdings and assets.” I explained to Temar. “The old system of levies for specific wants was abandoned generations ago.”

Temar shook his head. “I wonder my grandfather’s shade did not return from the Otherworld and kick me awake at such insult to Princes’ privileges.”

He stood up abruptly, pushing himself away from documents, ledgers, leather-bound volumes and screeds folded within sealed ribbons. I watched as Temar turned slowly on his heel, looking grimly at the racks of rolled parchments, shelves of bound tomes, flat cases holding maps, charts, records and plans. The only sound was the susurration of turning paper, broken by the muted rasp of the ladders attached to each set of shelves being pushed along its rails. Every day must bring some new shock to remind the lad just how much life had changed on this side of the ocean, I thought.

“Sit down,” Casuel hissed as curious heads peered down from shelf-lined bays in the galleries above. High windows transmuted golden sunbeams into reds and blues, greens and browns, the alchemy of stained glass spilling blurred jewels across the dun matting.

Temar shook his head as he slowly resumed his seat. “My grandfather kept all deeds of grant and records of tithe in one locked chest. Granted, it was as long as a man and an armspan deep but—”

“Remember just how much time has passed,” Casuel interrupted. “This archive holds the record of twenty-five generations, twenty-five years to each one.”

“I allow I am ignorant of much, Mage D’Evoir, but I know how many years to a generation,” said Temar acidly.

I hid a smile behind my hand as Casuel paled. Temar’s unconscious aristocratic inflexion belatedly reminded the mage of their relative rank.

“I only meant—’ said Casuel hastily, “oh, never mind. Documents became far more important after the Chaos. In the Old Empire everyone knew which House held what lands, whose service was owed to whom. Things had stayed constant for so long, after all. When the rule of law was re-established, rival claimants arose to land and property and written proof of title was invaluable.” Casuel tapped the taxation roll sharply. “Please apply yourself, at least to the first two or three leaves. Names are listed in order of taxes paid, so it’s a good indicator of the wealthiest. The first fifty or so are Houses you’re likely to visit or meet but it wouldn’t hurt to have at least read through the first few hundred.”

Temar ran a thumb over the unbound edge of the stack of parchments. “In my grandfather’s day all the Sieurs of all the Houses sitting together wouldn’t have filled these tables.”

“I’d advise you to get your bearings in Toremal as it is rather than repine for what is past.” Casuel lifted his chin defiantly as I gave him an icy look.

Temar bent over the close-written list. “I do not see why we cannot have ink in here,” he muttered as he smudged his notes.

“Because the Archivists forbid it and quite right too. Who knows what accident or mischief might be done.” I noticed Casuel glance at the floor by his feet as he spoke. He’d done that several times today. “The right document can make or break a family.”

“Half the Names I knew are gone and many of these mean nothing,” said Temar at length, rubbing a hand round the back of his neck. “Where are Tor Correl, Den Parisot? What about Den Muret? Who in Saedrin’s name are D’Estabel, Den Haurient or Den Viorel?”