Juliet McKenna - The Warrior's Bond

“Many Houses fell into ruin during the Chaos.” Casuel couldn’t resist another glance at the floor by his chair and I shifted myself to see what he’d got there. “It’s nigh on unheard of for a modern Name to fall extinct in the male line, but when warfare racked the Empire there were many casualties. New grants of nobility were made later, or indeed simply assumed.”

“Nemith has much to answer for,” spat Temar. “Poldrion grant demons drown him yet in rivers of sorrow.”

“Of course—you knew him.” Casuel blinked. “Forgive me, this is merely history to us.” As he leaned forward, a leather satchel resting against his chair slid flat to the floor unnoticed by the fawning mage.

“I knew him, so far as a cadet of a minor House had anything to do with an Emperor,” said Temar grimly. “Enough to learn he was a whorestruck drunkard wasting the gold the Houses sent for troops to defend the Empire on debauchery and enriching his favourites.”

“In all justice, Nemith’s folly wasn’t the only evil blighting the Empire,” countered the wizard.

“True, Raeponin forgive me.” Temar sighed and reached across the table for another of Casuel’s books. “Your man Minrinel, in this so-called Intelligencer , he doesn’t even mention the Crusted Pox.” Temar’s mouth yielded to a brief grimace of grief. “Three other sons of the House of Nemith might have been elected Emperor had they not been ashes in their urns even before their grandfather the Seafarer breathed his last.”

I looked up from trying to reach the strap of Casuel’s satchel with my toe as the wizard scribbled notes eagerly in the margin of his own papers. “Do you know what went on at the Convocation of Princes when the Imperial throne fell vacant? Why did they make such a disastrous choice?”

“I have no notion.” Temar’s eyes were distant with a memory of mourning. “I was not of age and my grandfather didn’t attend, too busy with the affairs of House and tenantry. The Crusted Pox killed all the men of my father’s generation and my own brothers and sisters besides.” Temar bent suddenly over the taxation list, scribbling furiously. I shut my own eyes on an echo of my own remembered grief, the death of my only sister.

“Indeed.” Casuel twisted his fingers together uncertainly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to distress you. But all the weeping in the world won’t uncrack an egg, that’s what my mother always says.” He coloured slightly.

“Just how powerful is D’Olbriot?” Temar asked me suddenly, curt words echoing in the hush.

“Please lower your voice,” Casuel begged in muted entreaty.

I nodded at the list before Temar. “At the last taxation, Messire D’Olbriot was reckoned to control a twentieth part of Tormalin revenues and commerce.”

“Add in about seven or eight other families and those Names are responsible for just less than half the entire commonalty of the Empire?” Temar pursed his lips.

“Which is why you must learn due courtesy,” said Casuel severely.

“Life was very different before your Chaos, Mage D’Evoir, but we were taught a modicum of manners,” Temar said icily.

I wasn’t about to let Casuel get away with that patronising attitude either. “From everything those scholars working with the Archmage said, the last days of the Old Empire probably have more in common with this present age than with any era between.”

“Why are you so well read in such things, Casuel?” Temar asked unexpectedly. “The mages who come to Kel Ar’Ayen would be hard put to list the provinces of the Empire, let alone the Imperial Names. They spend all their energy on study of their element and think Hadrumal is the centre of the world.”

“My family has a particular interest in these matters,” Casuel stammered with uncharacteristic nervousness. He looked down for his satchel but I’d managed to hook it over to me.

I grinned at the wizard as I opened the flap and lifted out a folded bundle of parchment tied with faded ribbon. “What’s all this?”

“The House of D’Alsennin was not the only one to disappear in the Chaos.” Casuel snatched the documents from me. “You call me D’Evoir, Esquire, but that’s not really an honour I’m entitled to, not yet, anyway.” He gave me an indignant look before unknotting the ribbons and spreading the top parchment out for Temar to see. “The last D’Evoir attested in the historical record was a Governor of Lescar. He was murdered in the final year of Nemith the Last’s reign, but other than that I can’t find anything about him, not even if he had a family or sons. I’ve managed to trace my own family back nineteen generations but the evidence before that is scarce and contradictory. If I could find any other D’Evoir from the Old Empire, I might find some threads to tie my own family back to the Name.” The mage shut his mouth but not before we’d heard a definite note of pleading in his voice.

Temar lifted fine black brows. “If the Name is gone, the property of the House scattered to the four winds and tenantry claims lapsed, there can be no obligation to answer nor indeed coin to do so.”

“It’s not a question of wealth but of status,” said Casuel stiffly. “It would mean a great deal to my family, to my mother, to establish a tie. Then we can use the style D’Evoir, adopt the badge of the House.”

“I see.” Temar’s face was a well-schooled blank. I bit down my own opinion of such middle-ranking, jumped-up ambition. So the wizard fancied himself descended from noble blood, did he? I wondered if his merchant father would consider the cachet of rank sufficient recompense for Casuel’s snobbery raising his family to the Land Tax register.

Soft steps made us all look round and Casuel hastily tucked his parchments beneath a ledger marked with ancient fingers. “Not that it’s of any real importance. No need to mention it to Messire D’Olbriot or his nephew.”

I was already on my feet as Esquire Camarl D’Olbriot approached from the southern door. I bowed and Camarl’s answering bend from the waist was constrained both by his close-tailored coat and incipient portliness. His dark hair was brushed into a careful affectation of disorder but eyes and mouth showed resolution at odds with the season’s fashion.

“How go your lessons, D’Alsennin?” he asked humorously.

“He’s a most diligent pupil,” Casuel smiled ingratiatingly.

Temar shrugged wryly. “There is a great deal still to learn.”

“We can’t expect you to master the complexities of the modern Empire in a scant half season of study at inns along the high road.” Camarl grinned suddenly. “Don’t worry; you’ll be with me at most social occasions and Ryshad’s to be your escort elsewhere.”

“Planir has asked that I make myself available,” interrupted Casuel hopefully. “To offer assistance.”

“Indeed.” Camarl nodded graciously at the wizard. “But I beg your pardon, Temar, we’re disturbing you. It’s Ryshad I came to see.” Camarl led me adroitly into a book-lined alcove. “Can he hold his own in company without looking an utter fool?” the nobleman asked bluntly, turning his back on Casuel’s ill-disguised curiosity.

“I think so,” I said slowly. “And as you say, either you or I will be with him, to smooth over any difficulties.”

Camarl looked thoughtful. “We have more pressing concerns than stopping Temar frying himself in his own grease with a thoughtless remark. Kellarin has potentially enormous resources.” His amiable face hardened. “A great many people want Temar to grant Master So-and-So rights over such-and-such. Someone else will want exclusive licence to this, that or the other, while their rivals will be falling over themselves to offer a supposedly better deal. He’s a bright lad and has acquitted his responsibilities admirably this past year, but the Sieur and myself, we’re worried that he’ll find his rooster’s cooked and eaten before he knows it. Then all he’ll go home with is a feather duster.”