Leslie Moore - Griffin's Daughter

Magnes shrugged listlessly in response.

“ Well, can I at least come in an’ light a lamp or two?”

Magnes shook his head. “Just bring me a couple of flagons of wine…The Rhandon should do. It’s good and strong.”

Conrad’s eyes flashed with worry. “Yes, sir. Straightaway,” he said and left to do as he was bid. Magnes waited in the dark, slumped in a chair, eyes tightly shut.

The servant returned quickly with the wine, a tankard, and a small tray of cold meat and bread. Magnes took the wine and told the man to return the food to the kitchen. He closed the door in the bewildered Conrad’s face and returned to his chair by the open window.

The moon hung low in the sky, a tiny sliver of silver, barely visible above the castle roofs. Magnes didn’t bother to fill the tankard and drank directly from the flagon instead. The wine, dark and strong, soon took hold, and the unbearable pain that gnawed at his insides quieted down to a dull ache. He drank up the first flagon quickly and then started on the second, sipping until he felt completely numb. After a time, he slept.

The discomfort of a full bladder woke him several hours later. Staggering to the bedchamber, he groped beneath the bed until his fingers snagged the chamberpot. With a sigh, he relieved himself, then wobbled back into the outer chamber to retrieve the wine flagon. With almost no light to see by, virtually blind and still drunk, he blundered into the heavy armchair and crashed to the floor.

Cursing softly, he hoisted himself back up into the chair and sat quietly for a moment until the pain of his cracked shin subsided. When he could breathe again, he groped for the unfinished flagon on the table to his right and managed to grasp it without knocking it over. He shook it gently, and the sloshing sound told him he had enough wine left to sustain his drunken state for the rest of the night. He raised the flagon to his lips and swallowed deeply, then passed out.

He awoke the next morning with a vicious headache and no memory of having fallen asleep again. The empty wine flagon lay on the floor at his feet, a small red blotch staining the carpet beneath its lip.

A soft knock at the door brought Magnes unsteadily to his feet. He swayed a little and sat back down as his stomach threatened to rebel. He breathed deeply for several heartbeats until the wave of nausea passed, then once again tried to stand. This time, he met with success and made it to the door without falling.

“ You look like hell!” Thessalina exclaimed. Magnes waved her in and closed the door. “Conrad was worried about you. He asked me to look in on you this morning, and I can see that he was right to worry.” She sat down in the window seat with her back to the morning sun. “Magnes, talk to me. All I know is what Father has told me, but I want to hear it from you. Is it true that you took Jelena to the Western Lands so that she could get away from Duke Sebastianus?”

“ It’s true,” Magnes answered. His tongue had grown fur overnight and seemed to be twice as thick as it ought.

Thessalina shook her head incredulously. “But why would you risk so much for her? She was getting a very good deal. She wasn’t worth shaming Father and running out on your own obligations, Brother.”

“ Please, Thess. I…I’m just not up to this conversation right now. Leave me be.” He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

Thessalina clicked her tongue in dismay. “You’re hung over. I’ve never …I’ve never even seen you drunk before! What’s going on, Magnes? I know you. This is not about Jelena…Tell me what’s wrong with you!”

Magnes sighed deeply. Like a terrier with a rat, Thessalina had him cornered, and she was not about to let him go until she had shaken every last detail out of him. “Livie’s gone,” he said. “She married a farmer from Greenwood. I’ve lost her for good.”

“ I’m so sorry, Brother,” Thessalina murmured. “I know you loved her.”

“ It wasn’t enough.”

“ What will you do now?”

“ Gods, Thessalina! I don’t know. I can’t…no, I won’t marry that stupid creature Father has chosen for me. I’ll renounce all claims to the ducal coronet and take priestly vows before I let him force me into such an intolerable match.”

“ That’s foolishness, Magnes. You know you can’t just put aside your inheritance.”

The alcoholic fog dampening Magnes’s brain suddenly burned away in the light of revelation. He abruptly sat up and leaned forward. “I can, and I will. I never wanted the position anyway.” He stared into his sister’s eyes, trying to gauge her reaction to his words. She seemed genuinely shocked. “Don’t pretend that you’re surprised, Sister. You and I both know that you should be Father’s Heir, not me. The only reason you aren’t is because you had the misfortune of being born second in a land where the firstborn inherits everything. Never mind talent or temperament! It’s only fitting that I should step aside. If I openly declare my intention to take priestly vows, Father can’t stop me. He’ll have to make you the Heir.”

Thessalina stared, mouth agape in astonishment, unable to speak.

“ Where is Ghost?” Magnes abruptly asked. Thessalina blinked rapidly, and he could see her mind start to shift and turn. She now realized the implications of his words, and they pleased her.

“ Ghost… Where is he?” Magnes repeated.

Thessalina refocused. “He was an old dog. He died while you were gone. Don’t worry. I saw to it that he got a decent burial. I had him put under the old chestnut tree in the back garden-the one we used to climb as children.”

Magnes closed his eyes again and leaned back into his chair. He resolved to go say goodbye to Ghost, just as soon as he could stand without retching.

“ Would you have someone bring me some willow bark tea, please,” he whispered, massaging his temple in a vain attempt to stop the hammer blows inside his skull.

“ I’d think long and hard about all of this, Brother,” Thessalina suggested, but Magnes thought he detected an undercurrent of eagerness in her voice. He could not fault his sister for her ambition. They both wanted the same thing.

He felt, rather than saw, Thessalina leave the room. A strange lassitude gripped him, and he allowed it to carry him under. He stirred long enough to notice that a steaming mug of willow bark tea had appeared as if by magic on the table by his right hand. He drank it slowly, thankful that someone had thought to sweeten it. When he finished, he heaved himself up out of the chair, made his way to the bedchamber, and collapsed across the quilt, surrendering to sleep.

Duke Teodorus’s ice-chip eyes narrowed when Magnes entered the study. The duke sat at his desk, a small oil lamp illuminating the stack of reports before him. Outside, the castle bell chimed out the hour of Nonis, the last before midnight.

“ Details, so many details,” the duke muttered. He picked up a large piece of vellum affixed with an ornate seal and waved it at Magnes. “Y’see this? Came today from the capital, signed by Empress Constantia’s own hand. It says I’m to prepare and send a report with all speed detailing the strength and readiness of my forces. Bah! We’re not anywhere close to being ready for a war, but it seems that the empress is growing impatient. She wants the armies of the Imperium to be ready to march against the elves in fourteen months time-less, if possible! Wishful thinking, I say. Lucky for us, though, you’ve seen the inside of that elf castle. I’ve no doubt the empress’ll want me to secure it early on, since Amsara lies so close.”

“ Father, there are things I need to discuss with you,” Magnes said quietly.