Anais and the Broken War (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 5) (6 page)

“Often enough.”

“Did you see Lord Pendragon leave the table?”

“No. I didn’t notice him depart.”

“Are you certain?”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention to his table. He was there and then he wasn’t.”

“Did you return to your room directly after you finished eating?”

“Yes. Cedric escorted Sister Zilla and me to our room.”

“Where is your room located?”

“Our room joins with Lady Mediera’s bedchamber. We also share our room with Sister Tatiana and Uthur’s wet nurse.”
 

“Did you notice that no guards stood on duty that night?”

“I did notice. But, I have no control over the guards’ schedules.”

Brentwood tittered, and Carenhail shot him a dark look before he resumed questioning me.

“Was Lady Mediera in her room when you returned?”

“No.”

“Where was she?”

“Presumably with her husband.”

“When did Lady Mediera return to her room?”

“Sometime during the night. She woke me when she returned, and I joined her in her room.”

“She didn’t wake the baby?”

“Would you wake a sleeping baby?”

Brentwood laughed again, harder this time. Carenhail stared at him for a moment, a frown on his face. The man rolled his eyes. There was discord between these two. Perhaps there had been some argument over who would lead this interview. If so, Carenhail had won, but maybe the other man was not so content with the outcome.

“Answer the question,” Carenhail demanded, turning his attention back to me.
 

“No. She didn’t wake the baby.”

“Did she wake the other sisters?”

“No.”

“Why did Lady Mediera wake you?”

“She wished to pray.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Men fight battles with swords, women wield other weapons.”

“Please be specific. What did she say in her prayers?”

“We prayed silently.”

“For how long?”

“An hour, perhaps longer. While we were in prayer, Lord Pendragon knocked on the door and told Lady Mediera that he had been informed that he was needed in the field. He told her he would only be gone for a few days, no longer. He kissed her and then left.”

“What time did this happen?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It was late.”

“Did you go back to your room after he left?”

I shook my head. “No. I have a cot set up in Lady Mediera’s room. I stay with her frequently. She doesn’t like to be alone.”

“Was that the last time you saw Lord Pendragon?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“One more question. Where have you been for the past week?”

I closed my eyes, having no notion how to answer. What had Mediera and Cedric said about my absence? I suddenly wished I had had more time with Mediera before I was taken away for questioning. Cedric thought I was on an errand to the Abbey, but surely they must know by now that Fynn and I had gone elsewhere. What had Gorman told them? Probably nothing.

“A week ago I left the Great House en route to the Abbey,” I started.
 

“That’s not possible,” Carenhail interrupted. “You could not have re-entered the city. The gates have been closed for four days. The Abbey is cut off.”

“You misunderstand. I left the Great House with the intention of visiting the Abbey. However, I grew ill and turned back. A kindly painter, known to Lord and Lady Pendragon offered me his hospitality while I was feeling unwell. He has a studio near the market.”

“Why did you not return to the Great House?”

Lies stacked on lies had a tendency to be terribly unsteady, but I had no choice but to keep spinning this story. “I feared Lady Mediera would insist I saw a healer.”

“A healer would be appropriate if you were truly so unwell.”

“I am terrified of having my blood drawn. I begged the painter to shelter me until I was well enough to avoid such a fate.”

“That’s ridiculous. Perhaps we need to induce the truth from you in another manner.”

“Oh, don’t be impossible,” Brentwood said. “I know many a soldier who would go to greater lengths to avoid the leeches. Leave the poor sister alone. You’re just angry that her story supports Lady Mediera’s tale.”

The man on Carenhail’s left straightened his spectacles before tapping Carenhail’s shoulder. “Brentwood’s right, sir. We can’t torture a sister of mercy. The people of Barriershire are very superstitious. It would be a mistake.”
 

Carenhail sighed in resignation. “This isn’t over,” he grumbled.

“You may go, sister,” Brentwood said, an impish grin on the corner of his lips.

After I left the council chamber, I looked for Mediera in the family dining room, but she wasn’t there. This time I grabbed a pastry off the table, and then thought better of it and grabbed a second. It looked as if I was the only one who would be enjoying this fare. Hopefully, the servants would reclaim it soon for their brunch.
 

I found Mediera rocking Uthur’s basinet gently in her bedchamber. He was cocooned tightly in cotton, and all I could see of him was his tiny face. I walked up to the bassinet and place a hand on his cheek. I felt my ties to him weave tighter still, and I knew instinctively that the magic that bound us was stronger even than the magic I used to bury the furies by the road. Perhaps power born from love would always carry more weight than power derived from ambition or fear. I sighed. How would I ensure Uthur’s survival? How would I provide him an opportunity to grow up without the constant threat of attack? How could I offer him a safe world? I couldn’t imagine any way to defeat the furies. Even if the soldiers managed to push them back to the Southlands, what good would that accomplish? There were no mages left to build a new wall. I didn’t think I had either the strength or the skill to do it myself. Could he ever be safe here?

As I sat down on the edge of Mediera’s bed, she let her head drop on my shoulder.

“This isn’t working,” she sobbed. “They don’t believe us.” As the words tumbled out, she trembled.

“Even if they think we are lying, they can’t prove it. As long as no one can offer evidence that disputes our version of events.” I tried to comfort her, but the words fell flat.

“I’ve held fast to our story, and so has Cedric. But Carenhail wants to prove me a liar. He’s said as much. Was he the one who questioned you?”

I nodded. “Yes. There were two other men present, but Carenhail led the proceedings. He clearly considered himself to be the leader, although it appears one of the other men did not wish to grant him control.”

“I almost thought him handsome at first, with those blue eyes. But he’s awful. Truly terrible.”

There was a rap at the door, and it opened a crack. “Cedric Seve wishes to speak with you, my lady,” the guard said.
 

“Of course. Let him in.”

The door opened fully, and Cedric entered. Mediera flew into his arms, and once again I was struck by how much they looked the picture of the courtly romantic couple from a fairy story–the broad-shouldered knight with the square chin, holding the lithe blonde damsel–a doomed romance, in their case.

Once they disentangled themselves, Cedric’s eyes turned to me. “Oh Ani, I’m glad you’re back. I thought you were trapped at the Abbey. They aren’t letting anyone enter the city gates.”

“I never made it that far. I fell ill.” I decided it would be best to stick with the same lie I had told Carenhail and the other captains. There was no reason to burden Mediera or Cedric with the truth.

“Why didn’t you come back? I would have called for a healer,” Mediera said.

I shook my head. She wouldn’t believe me if I said I feared being bled. At least, I didn’t think she would believe me. There had to another explanation I could offer–a credible lie.

“Ani?” she asked.

“I feared the baby would get sick. I didn’t want to expose him. He’s so little. Fynn let me stay with him.”

Mediera’s eyes turned to Uthur. “Oh. Maybe that was for the best. I would not wish him to fall ill either.”

“You should have sent a note,” Cedric accused. “We were worried. Especially with Captain Carenhail breathing down our necks. If we knew you were in the city, you could have spoken with him earlier. He was convinced that you left the Great House because you knew some secret about Colin’s disappearance. He thought you were the key. What did you tell him?”

“I told him exactly what we planned for me to say. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Was he disappointed?” Cedric asked.

“Very.”

“Did he believe you?”

“He didn’t have much of a choice. The other captain, Brentwood, I think, wouldn’t let him beat the answers he wanted from me.”

“Brentwood’s a good man.”

“Can he can stop Carenhail from taking control of the city?”

“No. Gorman believes Brentwood means to help Carenhail, but he thinks Brentwood wants it done properly, while Carenhail doesn’t care who he hurts.”

“What happened to Gorman? Why isn’t he here?”

“He’s back in the city guard. They stripped him of his title. He’s just a common guardsman now. I think Carenhail feared Gorman had too much power, and would use it to oppose him. I’ve met with Gorman a few times. He seems to accept his change in station. I wouldn’t be so serene if I were him.” Cedric ran a hand through his hair. “I fear there is nothing we can do. Carenhail will have his way and place himself as lord of the city.”

Mediera frowned but did not argue. I wondered how many times they had had this conversation.

“How is that even possible?” I asked. “He has no claim to Barriershire.”

“It may not matter. In times of war, a military ruler can take the seat of a lord. That’s why Carenhail called for a siege. He’s proclaiming war. He needs agreement from the lords’ council, and he may get it. Baby Uthur is too young to take his seat, and with Colin dead, there is no one to fill the role.”
 

“Cedric, you have more of a claim than he does, at least you’re family. Carenhail is no one,” Mediera said.

“Carenhail is a knight.”

“It shouldn’t matter,” she hissed. “He’s no relation of mine.”

“It matters. Carenhail squired for Lord Weston and was knighted by the lords’ council before he was trained as an officer. His credentials are impeccable. His father was not a lord, but he is the Lord of Courtshire’s nephew. If he wants the seat, he may just be able to take it. At least for the duration of the war.”

“It should be you,” Mediera argued. “Not him.”

I didn’t say it, but I couldn’t help but think that Cedric had no head for the intricacy of war, and he did not have the guile to win a lordship through deceit. He was too much the white knight for that sort of thing, even though he did not hold the title. Gorman was an even less likely candidate for the position, as he had no family connections. His only credential was his position as the captain of the city guard, a position he no longer held. I wondered if the men of the guard still loved him. Gorman’s charisma was undeniable.

“Mediera…”

“I wrote to Thomas asking him to request that if an acting Lord must be named that it be you.”

Cedric bit his lip. “You didn’t tell me.”

“It should be you,” she insisted.

“I have no support.”

“You have my support.”

“That won’t be enough. It’s more likely that the lords’ council will choose Carenhail.”

“Will Gorman back him?” I asked. I wanted Gorman to lead. He was my choice. He had a stable head, was charismatic, and beloved by his men, and I believed he would do his best to keep Mediera and Cedric involved. I didn’t care for his connection with the fat man, but I couldn’t see another option.

Cedric shrugged. “I’m not sure what Gorman will do.”

“He doesn’t matter anymore, Ani. He is of no use to us anymore,” Mediera interjected.
 

“That may be so, but still I’d like to speak to him myself. I believe he’s important, no matter his rank. The lords’ council is far away while the city guard is here.”

C
HAPTER
6

WHEN I TRIED to leave the Great House, the guards told me I didn’t have permission to vacate. I seethed for it was ridiculous of them to think that they had any control over me. I knew how to navigate the Great House unseen, a skill bestowed upon me during my days as a scullery maid so many years ago. The servants here seemed to be used to me navigating their walkways, and no longer gave me strange looks. Still, I waited some days before secreting myself out through the servants’ passages, and I made sure I moved well after dusk to improve my chances of not being observed.

Gorman likely had a bunk in one of the guards’ towers. However, I had no notion of how to locate him there. My best chance was Dorin’s Cup, oft frequented by soldiers and skins. When I entered the darkened tavern, all eyes seemed to flit in my direction. Few women were present, but I should not have been drawing so much attention.

As I looked at each man who glanced in my direction, I hoped he would be Azriel. A futile effort, for I knew I would not find him. Azriel should be west of the mountains by now, or at least en route. Still, I wanted to see him for I felt empty by myself. It was all too much–too hard.