Crowchanger (Changers of Chandris) (13 page)

“I have hardly failed. I am a changer, and I can resist the call and transform at will. There is one in the Aerie now who cannot even master those simple steps.” He felt a brief pang of guilt in his chest at using Sylas for such an unfavourable comparison.

To his surprise, his father frowned more deeply. “Do you compare yourself against the weakest now, Casian? There was a time when you would measure yourself against the best and work to improve if you found yourself wanting.”

Casian realised he had clenched his jaw again. He should have known his father would not approve of his sudden reappearance. How disappointing to have his true heir back with him, preparing to assume his position, rather than the favoured younger brother.

“Maybe if you spoke to them? Pointed out to them that I am more than ready for mastery. You might have more influence than I.”

“And if I try to bring my position to bear on them it goes against the independence of the Aerie from the nobility. It also makes you look like a petulant child, running home to get his father to intercede for him. You need to stand on your own feet, Casian. Prove yourself to them. Make them respect you, if they do not. Show you are worthy of your blood.”

“So you want me to stay? Keep working for the mastery?”

His father poured a cup of water and sipped at it thoughtfully. “I had hoped you might rise high within the changers, make a place for yourself there.”

“But I am heir of Lucranne.”

“And I may not displace you; it is our law. But you can stand down. Yoran stands ready to replace you. He would make a worthy lord holder, and you would make a fine master changer. Maybe even a councillor in due course. An Irenthi on the changer council would be of great benefit to us. It would give us an influence we have lacked since the last time Lucranne produced a changer.”

But that had been centuries ago, when Lucranne had been the ruling house. The first two sons of Lucranne had changed and the holder council had overthrown the lord high holder, putting Banunis’s holder in his place. Their fully human younger brother had been allowed to become holder, but Lucranne was reduced to the second house. Of course the holder of Banunis had voted for Lucranne’s removal, and he had plenty of support. Once Banunis was installed as the new high holder the law regarding abdication had been passed, since all the holders were now nervous about an unfortunate outbreak of changers in their own families.

“So you want me to renounce my claim on the title?”

Garvan avoided Casian’s eyes for a while, staring fixedly into the bottom of his cup, then sighed.

“That would be the ideal situation, as I see it. Chandris passed the law allowing an heir to stand aside for a reason. We have never had a changer head of house in all the centuries the Irenthi have ruled in Chandris. I would not have Lucranne be the first, if I can help it.”

Casian felt as if he had walked off a cliff. To lose Lucranne was inconceivable. It was undeniable that being a changer had made his position difficult for a while, but he had received no challenge. It seemed that the passage of centuries had led to a more enlightened nobility. Or, more likely, the other holders could not see any benefit in causing trouble for his house. Most of Lucranne’s lands were desert, with the responsibility for linandra production and managing the Chesammos that entailed, and Garvan had handled both duties with extreme efficiency.
It was in the other holders’ best interests to leave things in Lucranne as they were.

Garvan was a wily man: an astute politician who had raised his sons to be like him. He would not be swayed by emotion, or be persuaded into revealing anything he did not want known. Casian knew that he would learn exactly what his father intended and not one whit more. Casian’s understanding of his talent was a recent thing, and he had never had the opportunity to use it on his father, had it even crossed his mind. But now he reached for the aiea-dera, extending the streams of it towards Garvan. Tiny tendrils of energy, cautiously used, for fear his father would realise what he did. He pictured them creeping towards Garvan, like vines twining around his head, exerting their control.

“Why do you want me to stand down, Father? Why do you prefer Yoran for your heir over me?”

Garvan’s eyes widened and Casian withdrew a little. Could he feel it? Did he know what Casian intended? His father laid a hand on his forehead as if massaging away a headache. He shook his head; he could feel something. Casian had noticed this when he tried his talent on other people. If they were in any way inclined towards his way of thinking, extending his influence went smoothly. If the person was against him, or resistant to his ideas, the compulsion generally failed.

“Is there some reason you think me unsuitable to be Lucranne’s heir? Is it the changing?”

The aiea snapped, like a too-taut bowstring, Garvan slamming the door closed on Casian’s talent. But for a moment, Casian had had him. Each time he used his talent he learned a little more, both about the talent itself and about those on whom he tried to use it.

“Go back to the Aerie before you are missed. You are a promising young man. You could rise far. Go back and accept their discipline and work hard. If you are still dissatisfied, come back in three months and we can talk again. But you must leave with Master Jesely’s permission and all proprieties observed. No sneaking off in the night like a thief.”

“But—”

“Deygan visits the Aerie soon, with Jaevan accompanying him. He has always been uncomfortable dealing with Irmos and Chesammos, although he met with Master Donmar many a time during the Lorandan invasion. Having an Irenthi there will make the visit go more smoothly. The council may see what an asset you could be and overrule Master Jesely. And you may make an impression on Deygan. No harm in making connections with the king, eh?”

Garvan’s voice made it quite clear there would be no discussion. Casian could tolerate another three months, he supposed, but if Jesely still dragged his heels he would insist his father either take him back or give him a good reason why he would not. And an opportunity to make himself known to Deygan and Jaevan—maybe to see how responsive to his talent the pair of them were—that would be worth something.

Three months. No more. He would be master changer or heir to Lucranne.

He was not prepared to give up both his ambitions.

Chapter 13

A
ny visit to the Aerie by King Deygan was noteworthy. Great political importance always accompanied the meeting of Irenthi rulers with the undoubtedly influential changers. But this visit was even more remarkable. Not only was Chandris uneasy—the first hints of dissent among the Chesammos were spreading—but Prince Jaevan accompanied his father for the first time, and everyone was keen to make a good impression on the young heir. He was widely rumoured to be a supporter of both the changers and the Chesammos, and many laid their hopes for the Aerie’s survival on the boy’s slender shoulders. It was an open secret that his father barely tolerated the Aerie, his decision to have his son tutored by some of its finest minds notwithstanding. And Deygan’s intolerance of the Chesammos was well-known.

When the royal party arrived, the courtyard was four deep with changers, apprentices, and novices, to say nothing of cooks, maids, and the like. The procession came through the main gate, Deygan looking straight ahead. He made a point of not showing emotion in front of the common folk. In particular, to display any pleasure at being here would be both false and politically unwise. He had been at odds with the Aerie for some time, and Deygan tolerated his annual visits rather than enjoying them. He scarcely acknowledged the crowd, who sensing his mood hushed into an uncomfortable silence. Jaevan rode by his side, his head twisting this way and that, attempting to take in every detail. Deygan tolerated the boy’s enthusiasm. His intention for the rest of his reign was to reduce the Aerie’s power, if not disband it completely. Let his son rule an island where full control was with the Irenthi, not shared with some hocus-pocus band of magic-doers.

Formalities bored Deygan. Master Donmar greeted the king, and Deygan spouted some equally bland and meaningless words back. Donmar had aged. So had he, Deygan supposed, but grey showed in dark Chesammos hair where it did not in Irenthi white-blond. They had known each other many years. Donmar’s knowledge of Chesammos lore had given Deygan a deadly edge when the Lorandans invaded the island the year Deygan succeeded his father. Jaevan also greeted the master changer, in a clear voice which as yet showed little sign of breaking. Deygan noticed his son scanning the crowds, and for the first time appreciated that Jaevan was not the youngest here, as Deygan had expected.

Most boys began the change at thirteen, though it varied. Girls did not begin their change until fifteen, or even later, so most novice classes were a strange mixture of young women and boys barely into adolescence. There were younger children too, offspring of the Aerie’s inhabitants, only some of whom would prove to be changers themselves.

After Master Donmar, the king was greeted by Master Jesely, and Deygan noted his son’s beam of pleasure at the sight of the Chesammos master. At least the boy had some familiar faces here. As did he, Deygan realised, recognising the young man at Jesely’s shoulder.

Casian took hold of the king’s palfrey’s bridle while Deygan dismounted, bowing in the Irenthi fashion to the king and his son. It was interesting that the Aerie chose to have Casian so in evidence at their arrival. Were they trying to make the point that the Aerie was no longer the sole preserve of Irmos and Chesammos, and thus Irenthi had less reason to see it as a threat? Casian was an embarrassment or an opportunity, depending on how one looked at him. He was an embarrassment to his father, certainly. Irenthi nobility still regarded changer children as an unfortunate accident, and one as highly-placed as the heir to Lucranne was hard to cover up. Garvan had chosen to embrace it: to encourage his son to learn changer ways and make up his own mind which path to follow. Deygan was not sure he would be as broad-minded, in similar circumstances.

“Master Jesely,” said Deygan. “It is good to see you. My son has been in a fever of excitement to see you again.” Jaevan’s broad smile was unreserved. The boy would need to learn to disguise his emotions—he could hardly play politics with his feelings writ large across his face. But he was young yet. Let him be a boy for a while longer.

“Casian,” Deygan acknowledged the elder son of his friend and rival. Casian dipped another quick bow. He was graceful and smooth, born to privilege.

“Your Majesty. Welcome to the Aerie.” Although Deygan expected that being a changer would be a matter of embarrassment to an Irenthi, Casian gave no sign of awkwardness that the changer city had been his home for the past—what—four years? Five? Soon it would be time for him to decide where his loyalties lay, then, and either commit to the changers and set aside his claim to Lucranne, or renounce his abilities and return to prepare for his inheritance. Deygan couldn’t help but study the young man a moment, as if by that scrutiny he might determine which way his decision would tip.

“But you are Irenthi. Are you really a changer?” said Jaevan, blurting the words out. Deygan hissed his irritation. Jaevan might be a boy, but he needed to learn when to hold his tongue. Casian smiled and inclined his head.

“Indeed I am, Your Highness. The only Irenthi at the Aerie at present. I am something of a curiosity, which I think is why I am here to greet you. If your father allows, I would be happy to show you around and answer any questions you might have.”

Deygan felt a strange prickle in the back of his mind, like a troublesome fly on a hot afternoon. He rubbed a weary hand across his forehead. It was not a long distance from Banunis to the Aerie, but the terrain was arduous, and he felt as though he had been in the saddle all day. What was it Casian had said? Show the boy around? He could see no reason why not. Better an Irenthi to take care of him than one of these damned Chesammos the Aerie kept harbouring. He waved a gloved hand.

“Yes, of course. Excellent idea. See to it, will you, Jesely?” Deygan could not understand the look of displeasure that flitted across Jesely’s face. That prickling feeling itched at the back of his skull, then vanished as quickly as it had come. “Maybe we could go inside. I, for one, could do with a wash and a bite to eat.”

Deygan might have been mistaken, but he thought Casian flashed Jesely a look of satisfaction as the royal party headed for the great hall. Politics. Always there was politics.

Jaevan started the changer council meeting well enough, clearly understanding what was being said, asking pertinent questions when his father allowed him to speak. But as the second hour dragged into the third his face grew paler, and his well-trained erect posture became a weary slouch. The boy was flagging—anyone with eyes in their head could see that.

Much as the king might want him to sit through entire council meetings, ones such as this with the Aerie’s policy on the Chesammos people being put to debate were torturous enough for the regular participants, much less a twelve-year-old boy. Jesely thought no one but him had spotted it, but Ayriene caught his eye and raised her eyebrows. Yes, she would notice. She would be the one called upon to revive the lad if he passed out at the table. Jesely gave the slightest of nods. He would call attention to the lad’s plight.

“Sire, if I may make a suggestion, should we not take a short break to refresh ourselves? His Highness looks tired.” There were refreshments available, and Jaevan had taken some fruit and a cup of wine, well watered, but it seemed to Jesely that wine might make him sleepy rather than give him the injection of energy he needed to get through the rest of the meeting.

“I am all right, Master Jesely. Really, I am,” Jaevan said, trying to sit more upright in his high-backed chair, but the hand that reached for his cup trembled, and the boy’s naturally pale Irenthi skin seemed almost translucent.

His father studied Jaevan’s face, taking in the boy’s pallor, the tired droop of his shoulders.

“Maybe a walk around the courtyard, Sire? I would be glad to accompany His Highness, since he knows me a little.”

The lad clearly did not want to lose face in front of the council, but he brightened at the suggestion. He was trying so hard to be a man, and doing remarkably well for his age. He had the willowy look of all the Irenthi, as if a strong gust of wind would take his legs from under him, but he had the steel and determination of his father. Not many would cross Deygan, and the council was getting a grilling that Jesely would be glad to escape, if only for a few minutes.

“Please, Father? You did say I could look around. The Aerie buildings are older even than Banunis, my books say, and I’d like to see some of them.”

Jesely pushed back his chair, attempting not to show the relief he felt. His temper was steadily fraying as Deygan spoke of the Chesammos. The king’s words were all of controlling and repressing. They were Jesely’s own blood, for all Deygan clearly saw him as a changer rather than a Chesammos. He could see from Cowin’s face that the other master would have escaped the meeting too, if he could have seen a way out. Jesely saw little chance of compromise in Deygan’s attitude.

“No need to take you away from our discussion, Master Jesely. Lord Casian offered to show my son around. Maybe he could be prevailed upon to make good his offer?”

Jesely was not sure he liked Casian being given his Irenthi title in the Aerie. After all, here he was just a journeyman, whatever his birth. Even so, he had Casian sent for. The Lady knew he could have chosen a better chaperone for the boy—whatever reservations he had about Casian associating with Sylas applied equally to Jaevan—but Casian would be one of Jaevan’s holders in time. Better the two young men had the opportunity to develop a friendship now, if only for the sake of Chandris’s future. And it was natural that Deygan would want his son cared for by another Irenthi when out of his sight.

So if it were all so right and proper, why did Jesely’s spirits drop at the door closing behind Jaevan and Casian? There was more to the feeling than simply the prospect of more hours in council. Jesely wished he had been allowed to supervise the young prince. Sighing, he refilled his cup and settled back in his chair to listen to the debate.

“I thought they were never going to stop talking.” Jaevan flashed a smile that bordered on cheeky, sheer relief at being out in the fresh air shining in his eyes. Casian knew from experience the sort of training he would be going through, designed to produce the epitome of an Irenthi nobleman. It was nice to see a spark of individuality from the boy.

After so long surrounded by Irmos and Chesammos, it felt vaguely strange to be speaking to another Irenthi here.

“They will likely talk for some hours yet, Highness. Your father does not visit the Aerie often, but when he does he covers a great deal of business.”

“That’s what I said, only you are more polite. I suppose all this stuff about the Chesammos is important, but it was a little awkward with Master Jesely and Master Donmar and Master Cowin sitting there. My father does not seem to see them in the same way as the Chesammos he talks about. I suppose changers are different.” The lad’s brow furrowed, the mark of a boy trying to understand men’s affairs.

“In more ways than you know, Highness.” Jaevan seemed an open sort of lad, guileless and naive for all his training. Casian didn’t think he had ever been naive. Garvan’s training insisted his sons were alert for any double-meaning, any seemingly innocent question designed to extract information that the speaker had never meant to let slip. He wondered if now might be the right time to try out his talent on Jaevan, with the boy so grateful to be rescued from the council meeting that he might spill secrets in his desire to be liked.

“He doesn’t like the Aerie, you know,” said Jaevan. “I think if he could find a way to stop the changers having any influence he would. He says the Aerie helps the Chesammos—sends them extra food and clothing so they don’t have to work as hard. Is that true?”

Casian spread his hands. “Highness, here I am just a journeyman, not even a master yet, for all my birth. You have heard more of the highest counsels than I have. It is not for me to question what my elders and betters discuss at these meetings.” But it might be useful for him to know, he thought, particularly if Jaevan were to be present at many such meetings in future.

He called on his kye and extended a tiny tendril of the aiea-dera in Jaevan’s direction. “What did the masters discuss today, Highness? The Chesammos question, you said?”

The boy flinched. Had he felt Casian’s touch? But he had hardly started yet. Then a sensation in the aiea threads made Casian withdraw. Casian hadn’t tested anyone for talent yet—that was left to masters—but he had been tested on his arrival at the Aerie, when they determined he was a changer talent. He had felt it from the other side: that merging of two changers’ aiea that took place when the auras surrounding talented changers met, the feeling that led to the expression ‘talent knows talent.’ Casian frowned. He must have misinterpreted the signals.

“I’m sorry, Casian. I suppose things discussed in council should not go beyond the walls of the chamber.”

So, a failure, if a small one. Casian took it with good grace. “Of course, Highness. I would not ask you to break a confidence. We will have to work together in the future, after all. Shall we go and look at the great hall? You said you would like to see it. You will see it at the feast in your father’s honour tonight, of course, but this way you can look at your leisure without the curious staring at you.”