The Sleeping Life

Chapter Twenty

The Sentene mages were upset. Kendall didn’t know why, but she’d noticed it first the previous night, when Lieutenant Meniar had forgotten his smile and spent all his time staring at his feet.

Before, Kendall would just have asked Sukata. There was no reason she couldn’t go do that now: it’s not as if they weren’t speaking to each other. But Sukata would be so careful in replying, walking on eggshells that weren’t there, and Kendall would feel lumpish and full of angles and out of place.

And maybe Sukata wouldn’t even tell Kendall what was going on. It was plain that everybody else knew, except perhaps the Pest and His Smugness. Kellian business, probably linked to why they’d dragged themselves off to this forest instead of chasing down the Black Queen’s monster son. Rennyn no doubt would explain if asked, but she’d eaten in her room and was almost certainly asleep.

Opportunity gloomed past in the form of Lieutenant Meniar, hands in pockets and head down as he wandered into the garden beds east of the hill. Kendall hesitated only a moment before following him along the unlit path. The circle only kept Eferum-Get out, and wasn’t proof against things that had adapted to the flesh-and-blood world, but no doubt the Kellian had cleared out anything resembling a predator for miles around. Lieutenant Meniar certainly wasn’t taking any care, and didn’t seem to notice her following him as he walked all the way up to the inlaid stones that marked the protective circle, and stood staring over the stream that ran just outside.

"What’s going on?"

He straightened with a jerk, and gave her a reproachful glance.

"Spill."

Lieutenant Meniar shook his head, but it wasn’t a refusal. "You know about the Ten, right?"

"That most of the first Kellian are still alive? Yeah. I figured one of the reasons we were coming here was to introduce Herself to them."

He laughed, a sour cough of sound. "Yes. And to ask them their views on life—and other options."

"What do you…" Kendall stopped, remembering talking to Sebastian, just after Rennyn had been made a Duchess. "You mean…what do you mean?"

"They’ve asked Her Duchessness to give the Ten permission to die, should that be what they want."

That made sense: just the sort of thing that the Kellian would do, once they properly understood the spell that had made them. Still…

"That might make the Kellian unhappy—probably back when they decided to do this, before we left Tyrland. Doesn’t explain you."

He tipped his head back, gazing up at stars rather than forest. "The Kellian we work with are an entirely unplanned consequence of Symbolic Magic, side-effects of the creation of the Ten. Duchess Surclere proved the casting was ongoing. We don’t know what will happen to its side-effects if the Ten are removed from the picture."

Kendall felt as sick as Lieutenant Meniar looked. "Die?"

"Even that is possible. Or Queen Solace’s casting will unravel, and only their human heritage will remain. Or perhaps nothing at all will happen. That’s Symbolic Magic for you—it is as imprecise as it is powerful."

He glanced at her, then dredged up an attempt at a smile.

"It’s not a complete throw of the dice. We know what happened to the descendants of the one of the Ten who was killed about fifty years ago: absolutely nothing. But it’s hard to set aside the less probable consequences."

For Lieutenant Meniar—and half the other Sentene mages—in love with their Kellian partners. For Rennyn, married to Captain Faille. For…

Muttering something that might pass as thanks, Kendall turned on her heel and headed to the bedroom she had been assigned to share. Sukata had gone there after the dinner clean-up, so Kendall had figured she’d kill an hour or two until the need for awkward silences had passed. She barely caught Sukata, freshly dressed, on her way out.

"Are you going to tell them?"

Sukata’s fingers closed on the hem of her coat—a tiny giveaway to make up for not being able to look nervous.

"We are to spend the night in vigil in the resting place of the Ten," she said, her thin voice even more muted than usual.

"Are you going to tell the Ten that letting them die could make you stop being Kellian—maybe even kill you?"

"To do so would be to influence their answer."

"You think they wouldn’t want to know?"

"To protect ourselves by prolonging their cruel state is not possible, Kendall. Who we are…we cannot buy our existence at the expense of the Ten."

"And what’s it going to do to Herself? Even if absolutely nothing happens to you, you’re asking her to kill your…your grandmothers! And if—!"

Kendall made herself stop, an immense consciousness that she was hurting Sukata washing over her. Now wasn’t the time to pick an argument. All it did was make it harder to find a way back to the time when there was nothing more natural than ranging herself at Sukata’s side, because the pair of them were allies in dealing with a full-of-herself mage too powerful for her own good.

"Sorry," she said. "You go do your…whatever."

She was saved from the temptation to add a barbed "Since it’s nothing to do with me," by Captain Faille, coming out of the room he shared with Rennyn. He gave Kendall one of his Looks, easily translated as "You’re on duty," before going off up the hill. Sukata, after a moment’s hesitation, followed without another word.

"Bugs and rot," Kendall muttered, but so low even a Kellian probably wouldn’t have heard, then went and scratched on Rennyn’s door, and opened it.

Kellian mightn’t hold much with ranks, but Duchesses—or Captain Faille—still warranted what was probably one of the prime rooms, with windows looking out over the fields and gardens. Pointless, since they’d straight away been firmly shuttered and barred, and a heavy curtain pulled over them against any hint of autumn chill, with a brazier added to make sure the room kept toasty. Herself was still up, dressed for bed, but sitting cross-legged on it, not doing anything noticeable with the hairbrush she held.

Kendall had only once seen Rennyn Claire cry: right after she’d told the Kellian that she technically-not-really owned them, and they’d all gone from sort of liking her to flinching. In the months since then her slow recovery from the broken ribs and the hole in her side had led to plenty of fits of black sullens, and some days of sheer had-it-up-to-hereness, but even at her worst she’d mainly responded with gritted teeth and thinning patience. The Kellian asking her to kill their grandmothers, back around when she’d been made Duchess, must have been the cause of those days when she’d been all withdrawn and distracted.

Head tangled in her own concerns, it took Kendall an entire handful of moments to study the still profile of the most powerful mage in the world and read devastation.

What? Why? Rennyn had to have known about the Kellian plans for the Ten before they’d even started the trip. But this almost waxen stillness, the grey pallor, the exhausted set of her shoulders…

"Give me that," Kendall said, and took the brush because there was no way Rennyn was going to be this unhappy and want to admit it. Kendall began working on Rennyn’s hair with deliberate vigour, dealing with tangles briskly enough to smart. Minor distraction, but that had long been part of the reason Herself kept Kendall around.

Had Rennyn and Captain Faille had their first really bad argument? No, Sukata would have been able to hear that, and would have leaked distress from every pore. And there was no hint of the faint metallic tang of worked magic in the room, so Rennyn hadn’t been using one of the silence castings she occasionally put up. Nor had the Captain looked at all angry. Not that Kendall could ever tell much of what Captain Faille was feeling.

There weren’t a whole lot of things that Rennyn Claire cared about enough to knock her this hard. Only Sebastian, really, and there’s no way word of any hurt to him could have beat them here. The introduction to the people living at Aurai’s Rest had been awkward, but there’d been no suggestion of stone throwing. And, really, Rennyn could probably put up with all the Kellian cold-shouldering her so long as Captain Faille stuck around.

Kendall worked on braiding, waiting until she was close to the end before speaking.

"What would happen if you ordered the Kellian to not obey your orders?"

The jerk of Rennyn’s head told Kendall she’d guessed right. An accidental order, and a descent into a blather of guilt and doubt. Probably a whole self-sacrificial thing telling herself she couldn’t stay married to Captain Faille

"The next order cancels it out," Rennyn said, after a long moment. "You really can be astonishingly observant, Kendall."

Kendall sniffed. If seeing noses on faces was being observant.

"The family that lived next to me, back in Falk, there were so many of them they were three-a-bed," she observed to the air. "One day, Nina Lippon showed up with a black eye, and it turned out Jessamy—that was the youngest—had elbowed her in the face when she was asleep. Nina’s face was really sore, and Jessa felt a bit bad about it, but no-one was acting like Jessa had gone after Nina with a knife or anything."

Kendall twined one of Rennyn’s ribbons through the end of the braid, and tied it off firmly.

"I’d tell you not to sit in here digging your own pit of gloom, but I know you’re going to pass out before you get more than a foot down. I want to know, instead, whether you think the Kellian should tell the Ten what might happen if they all die."

That got no response at all, so Kendall busied herself making sure there was a jug of water, and a few sweet biscuits within reach. But Captain Faille had already set everything up before leaving, so Kendall had nothing left to do but set the brush on top of Rennyn’s small case of toiletries and head for the door.

"No, I don’t," Rennyn said, just as Kendall gripped the door handle. "I also don’t truly believe Solace’s casting will break—the chance is only remote, and nothing compared to the likelihood that Solace’s line ending will cause it to unravel. Faint possibilities should not be a factor in deciding whether nine women endure a half-life."

Those possibilities were still going to keep everyone up half the night—and if the original Kellian chose to die then there was nothing faint about how Rennyn would feel about what came next.

Too worked up for an early night, Kendall left Rennyn to her stewing and wandered about the settlement, avoiding the library-sitting room-hall where most of the mages had congregated. No-one seemed to have a house to themselves here: it was all laid out in large buildings with lots of rooms, one big central kitchen, and even something resembling a Kolan bath-house. Kendall spent some time there, not comfortable enough to strip off, but giving herself a more thorough wipe-down than she’d managed before dinner.

Emerging into the chill night air, Kendall narrowly avoided running right into Dezart Samarin, obviously getting himself a good look around while there were no Kellian to keep an ear out for him. Stepping back, Kendall waited until he had more of a lead on her before following.

The Sentene mages should have thought to put a proper watch on him. Maybe it was true that there was nothing particularly secret about Aurai’s Rest, but there was sure plenty dubious about His Imperial Smugness. And while he wasn’t actively breaking into anything, he more than once stopped to make a very particular survey of places that didn’t look at all interesting to Kendall. At the third of these he pulled a little book out of an inner pocket, and made a note with a stub of a pencil.

As if he’d found what he’d been looking for, he abruptly turned and walked briskly back to the building where Rennyn’s group had been given rooms. Kendall stayed as close as she dared, turning over schemes to get hold of that book and…but it would be written in Kolan. She’d have to show it to someone, and how would it be if it were in code as well, and looked like a laundry list?

He seemed to have had enough skulking about for now, at least, heading inside and straight for the room he’d been assigned. But then, just as he opened the door, he turned his head and looked directly at her peering around the corner. He was smiling—smirking—completely full up with smug on smug as he met her eye and she knew, just knew, that he’d seen her from the very start, as soon as she stepped out of the bath-house.

If Kendall had been holding anything she would have thrown it at the door that closed behind him. Of all the jumped-up, snot-nosed—! Making a game of her! She’d…she’d…

A picture of how silly she must look, practically stamping her foot in an empty corridor, punctured Kendall’s fury, and she let out her breath, then snorted.

"Don’t think that’s going to make me let my guard down, scut. None of us are fool enough to trust you."

About to turn and head back outside, a loud thud stopped Kendall in her tracks. That hadn’t come from Samarin or Rennyn’s room, but—

A crash pinpointed the Pest’s room, though before Kendall could do anything about it, Samarin flung open his door and dashed out into the corridor, a sword in one hand.

"Where—?" he started to say, but had his answer in the Pest, trailing a sheet and staggering like he was drunk.

"The music!" the Pest gasped, clutching Samarin’s arm. "The music!"

Maybe he was drunk. Before His Smugness could respond, the Pest ducked past him and threw himself at Rennyn’s door, so frantic and off-balance that he seemed to have forgotten how handles worked, fumbling and scrabbling before finally getting it open, and almost falling over again.

Kendall stared. At a rumpled and very empty bed. At curtains pulled back, shutters unbarred…and the Pest, staggering but still headlong, scrambling out the window.