The Sleeping Life

Chapter Sixteen

Ten bells. They were ideal for her purpose, and Rennyn adapted her new Sigillic around them, coaching Lieutenant Meniar into casting the result in the house’s receiving room. Then she tapped a fragment of a tune out on the set of bells suspended over the Sigillic, and nodded when the sound was repeated, and the casting took hold and settled to waiting.

"I can see it’s a divination," Fallon said, watching eagerly. "But I don’t understand what you’re divining."

"A sound only I can hear," Rennyn said. "Which, in this company, is unlikely enough to suggest that what I am hearing is not sound at all, but some expression of a casting. The difficulty has been producing a divination that did not react to every casting in the area, but only to the one I wanted. It took some time to think of a method for that."

Rennyn could see that something about this excited Fallon inordinately. And then, as happened too often to be coincidence, his fascination cut off and he looked sick, then retired behind her other students to stare at the ground. Rennyn exchanged a glance with Lieutenant Meniar, who nodded briefly. They had been discussing the question of Fallon’s health, and the Sentene mage had his own subtle divination operating.

None of her students were at their best at that moment. Of course, Rennyn had raised the problem of over-reliance on set forms with Fallon and Sukata yesterday, and both had been predictably crestfallen. Sukata had then compounded her unhappiness by failing in her entirely self-appointed duty to keep her fellow students safe. Not that she showed much if any of this on her face, but her stance was not as upright as usual.

And Kendall…Kendall was all prickles at the best of times. Since the yesterday’s unexpectedly dramatic trip to the market, she become something different: less inclined to talk, more a silent, spiky ball radiating leave me alone. Not, apparently, overly frightened by her near escape, nor simply embarrassed, but shut away and withdrawn. The only thing that roused her was opportunities to glare at Dezart Samarin.

"Enough for the morning, I think," Rennyn said, rising from the couch conveniently situated beside the casting. "Today’s assignment for you three is to write a Sigillic to stop a holed rowboat from sinking."

"Should I set someone to watch this?" Lieutenant Meniar asked, offering her his arm.

"No need. At this stage all I want from it is confirmation that there really is a casting. I haven’t structured a way to identify its purpose. I really can manage these stairs on my own, you know."

"You’d not deny me the opportunity to admire your progress," he said, cheerfully. "Your ribs aren’t bothering you at all?"

"Not a twinge," she said, more than pleased by the fact. "Nor has the headache reoccurred, even when I cast." But the climb up the single flight of stairs still brought on a faint dizziness. "I think I’m as recovered as I’m going to get," she added as Illidian, coming down from above, met them on the landing. "Not technically ill, but no physical reserve."

He clasped her hand at this, but only said: "The reinforcement work has finished."

"The nights will be dull without the prospect of attic invasions," Rennyn murmured, though she had, of course, slept through the first one entirely. "What did your divination tell you, Lieutenant Meniar?"

The Sentene mage waited to speak until they were all three inside her bedroom and he had closed the door behind them. Then, uncharacteristically grave, he said: "Fallon’s not ill. He’s enchanted."

Considerably startled, Rennyn said: "I haven’t detected any pattern of intent."

"Nor did I. My divination wasn’t set for it anyway. But the boy’s throat closed, completely. Some kind of membrane formed across it, I think. I’ll refine the divination to get a better idea of the physical impact."

Rennyn glanced at Illidian, and saw that the vertical lines that bracketed his mouth had deepened.

"A casting to prevent speech?" he suggested.

"Possibly," Meniar replied. "It’s something that released, at any rate, once he’d stepped back. But that’s no simple block to keep him quiet: a few of minutes of that and he’d suffocate."

"Well, there’s an explanation for why he occasionally appears outright terrified," Rennyn said. "Some mischief of his uncle’s, do you think?"

Illidian shook his head. "He claims to have departed without his uncle’s knowledge. Although this casting may pre-date his attempts to become your student."

"And what were we discussing that triggered it today? Divinations? Music? Advanced Sigillics?" Rennyn thought back over all she’d observed of Fallon in the previous weeks. "He’s always particularly intense about Thought casting. I hate to imagine that someone’s set him to learn my so-called secrets, under threat of death. But my lessons certainly don’t all have that impact on him."

"I’ll divine further, and then prepare a Sigillic that will unblock his throat if that becomes necessary." Lieutenant Meniar grimaced. "And hope that the casting does not include contingencies beyond that. I will leave unpicking the intent to you, Your Grace."

He smiled at her, nodded at Illidian, and left.

"Lady Weston was positively superstitious about your instincts," Rennyn said, as Illidian sat beside her on the bed. "Do you think your interest in Fallon was sparked because he poses a threat?"

He gave the idea due consideration. "Unlikely," he said at last. "More likely that I felt that he was threatened."

This last had an ironic note. Illidian claimed that it was pointless for him to dislike the in-built protective instinct of his people, but he was also very aware that part of his own personality was defined by the terms of Solace’s casting.

"When I decided to bring students along, I didn’t think they’d come with mysteries," she said, slipping off her shoes. "I’ll begin looking for a way to define the enchantment without his notice." She paused. "As for Kendall, I’ll try a direct approach this afternoon."

"And if her anger at Samarin is due to something more than chagrin at being rescued?"

"Then we will test the Emperor," she said, but sighed and shook her head. "I don’t think it’s that, any more than I think it’s her near-escape. From past remarks, I’m fairly sure this isn’t the first time Kendall has encountered trouble related to being small and pretty. If Samarin had added insult to injury, I’d expect more scratches. A black eye, at the very least."

Besides, Rennyn had contrived to get rid of the Dezart temporarily by presenting the larger portion of the house’s secret library to the Emperor, and Kendall’s mood hadn’t noticeably improved. She was unhappy, not angry.

"Well, I’ll ask," she said reiterated, and let herself be distracted into expending her energy more thoroughly than a flight of stairs would ever take. So nice to no longer have complaining ribs.

"What would happen if I just used Boat Stop Leaking?"

"More than likely that would work," Rennyn said, as she crossed from the door of Kendall’s chosen bedroom. "An emergency solution that you might use if you were going down rapidly. But an unclear construction, allowing the possibility that the casting would expand the definition of stop, fixing the boat in place. And I would expect it to be energy-hungry."

She held out her hand and Kendall handed up a smudged piece of paper. As usual a direct, logical and creative Sigillic, this time dutifully mindful of limitations.

"This comes close to Symbolic," Rennyn said. "You’re not ready for that."

"But would it work?"

"It would depend on your control, and your view of trees. Telling a boat it’s made from a tree and should grow bark might seal the leaks, but there’s every chance you’d gain leaves, branches, roots, or perhaps even enclose the entire boat in bark. If nothing else, there’s a risk your boat would become very heavy." She shrugged. "Or it could work exactly as you wish. I don’t think it would work successfully for me."

"Why not?"

"A tree crashed through the roof of one of our houses when I was a child," Rennyn said. "And so to me a tree is linked to destruction, to being heavy, and dangerous. One of the reasons Symbolic magic frightens so many people is that it’s open to much greater variation from caster to caster, or even from casting to casting. But did you use this because you thought it the best solution, or simply quicker than expressing exactly what you needed to happen in sigils?"

Kendall only shrugged, her dark brows lowering into the suspicion she wore like a shield. But today it failed to hide the clear unhappiness in her eyes. She had been distracted enough by the problem to briefly forget whatever was troubling her, but now radiated go away in a manner that was not entirely safe for someone learning Thought Magic.

Searching for an opening, Rennyn looked about, then said: "This room was my mother’s."

The headboard of the bed had triggered a fragment of memory, and Rennyn—who had been standing too long at any rate—sat down beside the pillow and touched the carved wood, counting the feathers of the magnificent wings of an eagle. The correct two had ever-so-faintly more polish, though not yet enough to make the secret obvious.

"It opens!" Kendall pressed forward, but the space was empty, and she settled back, disappointed. "Your mother was one of this Surreive branch of your family?"

"Yes. Because of the danger of outsiders finding out what we were trying to achieve, there was a lot of cousin-marrying between the Claires and the Surreives. We ended having to be very careful who married who, to avoid too much inbreeding. Theoretically my parents' marriage was arranged, but my mother hated the idea, of course, and refused to go along with it."

"Was she a lot like you?"

"I look like her. A little taller. Seb is more like our father."

"I guess they went along with arrangements in the end."

"Oh yes. My father, who had been sent to Kole, obliged my mother by agreeing that he would do better to look for someone unrelated and trustworthy to bring some fresh blood into the family. She began matchmaking him to suitable women of her acquaintance, and found herself pleased when the matches fell through." Rennyn tried to smile, remembering in sharp detail being told this story. "My father always said he loved her from the day they met."

"Sorry. I know you hate talking about them."

That was Kendall: stubborn as a mule, but full of sharp observation and unexpected kindnesses.

Drawing power, Rennyn formed a bubble of silence around them both, and watched the shutter slam back down on her student’s face as Kendall recognised the casting’s intent.

"Will you tell me what happened, Kendall?" she asked, and when the girl almost visibly settled in for a fight added: "You’ve been making me wonder if I should have Dezart Samarin arrested. And not only because it would be a salutary experience for him."

Kendall produced an expression of complete disgust. "I think he’d enjoy it if you tried." Her hackles had lowered a little, but she sidestepped. "You won’t have a day at all if you run around casting when you’ve just gotten up."

"The power cost of this is small," Rennyn said, truthfully. "I’ve been putting far more energy into trying to work out what has hurt you so."

She didn’t push further, just waited, and was gratified that she had reached the point with Kendall where the girl did, eventually, speak.

"That prat thinks the Kellian cast some kind of…that part of their magic is making people loyal to them. That we’re all just doing what they want."

Thoroughly astonished, Rennyn asked for Samarin’s exact words, and then was glad she’d sent the man away, else she’d be tempted to box his ears.

"There’s absolutely nothing in the terms of the spell that Solace cast that would give them such an ability, conscious or unconscious," she said firmly. "Nor is the symbology anything that would even suggest that. Solace used cobweb, dew, and dawn because she wanted deceptive strength, transparency, and speed. Just the tiniest hint of spider came along with the cobweb, which is why they are all so long-limbed. But the kind of glamour you are speaking of isn’t even touched upon, not to mention being a rather difficult casting even when you try it deliberately. And mages would be the least susceptible to it, since they have the strongest innate resistance."

"Which resistance?" Kendall asked, rather thickly. Having managed a terse but precise account of her conversation with Samarin, the girl now seemed to be trying to reject an accompanying revival of emotion through sheer force of will.

"All living creatures have some resistance to magic worked on them—even beneficial castings. Humans have more than animals, and mages the most of all. That’s one of the many reasons healing magic is difficult."

"Is that why it seemed to slip off when I hit Smelly with Thought Magic?"

Briefly wondering if Kendall had a nickname for her, Rennyn nodded. "Especially if he was a minor mage. Thought in particular is difficult to use on living people. Not impossible, but it’s like trying to hold a greased dish. It’s often simpler to work on the environment around a mage."

"I should have pulled the tent down," Kendall said. "I’ll remember that."

She did not look a great deal happier than before, but Rennyn allowed her casting to lapse, knowing that there would be no talking Kendall into a happier state.

"I can’t guarantee you that what Samarin suggested isn’t true," she said. "But I consider it extremely unlikely. And I don’t have a method for measuring feelings and deciding whether they are real. You can only choose how to react to them."

Leaving the girl to chew that over, Rennyn walked back to her bedroom, where Illidian sat cross-legged on the floor, finishing up some maintenance stitching on the leather-reinforced clothing he wore when expecting combat.

Settling in a chair next to him, Rennyn had no qualms re-establishing her minor silence and repeating Samarin’s words, finishing up with: "I recognised that the Dezart’s purpose in trailing us about was primarily to evaluate the Kellian as a potential asset for the Empire. I didn’t realise he might consider such a small group of people a threat."

Illidian, who had set aside his mending, said: "A small group of people commanded by one of the most powerful mages in existence? Or, if he actually credits that theory, a group of people who have bewitched such a mage."

"I’m not sure such a thing could even work on me. Not as current head of the Surclere family. It would go against everything Solace intended of that casting to have her heirs in thrall to her bodyguards. I wish I could have heard Samarin directly, to have a better idea of how seriously he took this theory."

"The idea of breeding for magic resistance is new, but it’s far from the first time we have been accused of unnatural influence. It’s the primary theme of Earl Harkness' campaign."

Illidian’s thin voice was entirely calm, but Rennyn had been learning the man she had so hastily married, and could read the slight shifts in his posture. He disliked this suggestion of the Kolan Dezart’s extremely.

"Would you prefer to not allow Samarin near Aurai’s Rest?"

Since their purpose in visiting the forest settlement was both a point of great sensitivity to the Kellian, and the only thing that had so far caused significant strain between Rennyn and Illidian, she was not at all surprised when he raised an equivocal hand, and said: "I have yet to form a suitable plan to keep him—or a replacement—away. And the Rest itself is no secret."

Rennyn reached out and brushed her fingertips along the side of the hand he had raised. "Perhaps he could sleep through the visit?" she said, with a smile.

"That is tempting." He sat looking up at her, grave. To enspell someone out of convenience walked the near edge of what could be considered justified.

"We will see what happens, then," she said, putting off the problem of Rhael Samarin, just as they had postponed the question of whether she should end the lingering life of the original Kellian.

But the answer—and the consequences—would have to be faced. All too soon.