The Mindmage's Wrath: A Book of Underrealm (The Academy Journals 2) (12 page)

“You have grown taller,” she said.

“I? It is you I can hardly recognize.” He laughed and hugged her close again.

But then a shadow darkened his mood, for a man stood up behind Halab. Ebon braced himself—but then he looked again, for it was not Shay who stood there, but a man he did not know. A man of the family Drayden, certainly—he had the eyes, the stolid brow. Doubtless some cousin or uncle of Ebon’s. But another glance around the room confirmed it: Shay was nowhere to be seen. And then, in the room’s deepest corner, Ebon saw Mako was here as well. The bodyguard leaned against the wall, a sarcastic smile playing across his lips as he watched Ebon.

Hesta must have seen the confusion in Ebon’s expression, for her lips tightened. “Your father was caught up in business, the day we left Idris to come here. He was forced to stay home.”

Ebon looked at Albi. “I ... I thought from your letter that he would be here.”

His mother looked as though she thought he was mad, but Albi gave a sad smile of recognition. Another would have thought Ebon was disappointed that Shay was missing, but Albi would know how overjoyed he was. “He, too, thought to visit. His decision to stay was made at the final hour.”

“It was all quite sudden, but nothing to concern ourselves with,” said Halab, who had now approached to stand behind Hesta. Ebon’s mother and sister drew aside in deference. “Well met again, my dearest nephew. My heart has been fairly sick in your absence.”

Ebon kissed one cheek, and then the other, gripping her shoulders tightly. “Dearest aunt. How I have missed you.”

She turned and gestured to the couches surrounding the hearth, where the fire still burned. Together they crossed the room—but they halted before taking their seats, for the man still stood there, looking at Ebon with something very much like a glare.
 

“Doubtless you remember your uncle, Matami—brother to your father and I.” Halab inclined her head. “He came in Shay’s place.”

At hearing the name, Ebon found that he
did
remember. He had met Matami once or twice, although the last time was quite some years ago. “Of course,” said Ebon, bowing deep. “Well met, uncle. It has been a long time.”

“Indeed it has.” Matami gave a loud sniff and turned away, returning to his seat. Albi met Ebon’s gaze, and playfully rolled her eyes. Ebon barely managed not to laugh out loud.

He took an armchair between Halab and Hesta. Albi left her chair and sat on a rug at his feet, her head leaning on his knee. “So, Uncle Matami,” said Ebon. “What business do you conduct for my father here upon the Seat?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” said Matami, each word uttered terse and clipped. But when Halab gave him a sharp look, his jaw tensed, and he continued. “I mean only that you are a student of the Academy now, and doubtless the family’s business would strike you as uncommonly dull.”

In fact, Ebon thought he might be right—but he almost wanted to inquire anyway, only to prove Matami wrong, for he found himself with an immediate dislike for the man that only grew with every passing moment. But over Matami’s shoulder, he saw Mako snickering while sipping his ale. Ebon’s mood lightened at once, and he suppressed his own smile as he gratefully took an offered goblet of wine.

Evidently Halab was still dissatisfied with Matami’s answer. “No need to be so brusque, brother. Matami is here to escort the wagons in the courtyard—doubtless you saw them when you arrived—as well as the goods inside. They are spices for the High King’s palace.”

“Spices?” said Ebon. “That many wagons full will surely fetch a fine price.”

“They do not mean to sell them,” said Albi, sounding annoyed. When Ebon looked down at her in surprise, she sighed and looked skyward, as though searching for strength. “They bring them as a
gift
. Something to ease negotiations for a new trade route through Wadeland. I see only wasted riches. That many wagons would fill our coffers to bursting for a decade.”

“And the new trade route will fill them for a century,” Halab chided. “Dear niece, this is a lesson you must learn well: today’s wealth is well spent if it earns tomorrow’s fortune.”

Again Albi looked at Ebon and shook her head, and again he had to stifle his laugh. Halab suppressed a smile.

“I see your secret, scornful looks, girl,” she said, delight dancing behind her words. “I will attribute it to youth, rather than disrespect. You are wise beyond your years, but life will bring you more wisdom still.”

“As you say, dear aunt,” said Albi. “But now that Ebon has arrived, may we eat? I fear I will simply
starve.”

“Of course.” Halab motioned to the servants standing near the door. “We will take our supper now.”

They rose and went to the dining table at the other end of the room. The last time Ebon had eaten here, they had sat at a high table and chairs, after the fashion of the Seat and most other kingdoms. Now the dining table had been replaced with one in the Idrisian design, a low table with cushions all around it upon which they could sit cross-legged. One by one they settled in. Halab gestured for Ebon to sit by her right hand at the head of the table, with Hesta to her left. Albi quickly seated herself beside Ebon while the servants brought dishes and trays of food. Matami did not look pleased to be shunted down near the other end of the table, but he took his seat beside Hesta without comment.
 

Ebon’s mouth watered at the smell of roasted lamb. It was placed at the table’s center, and before him were set a small plate of figs, light crackers, and chickpea spread mixed with many fine spices. Liya, one of the household servants, leaned over him to fill his goblet with wine.

“Thank you.” Ebon reached over to lift the goblet and make it easier for Liya to pour. But she recoiled with a sharp hiss of breath, and wine spilled from her pitcher. Ebon yanked his hand back before it got soaked, and the wine splashed on the table instead.

“Liya!” said Halab sharply. “What is the matter with you?”

Ebon looked up at her. The serving woman’s face was filled with fright—far more than seemed appropriate in response to Halab’s mild rebuke. “I am sorry, mistress. I will fetch him a new place mat immediately.”

She ran from the room and soon returned, replacing Ebon’s mat as quickly as she could. Hoping to dispel the awkwardness, Ebon met Albi’s eyes and made a face. She giggled.

Soon the dinner had been served, and the servants withdrew. Ebon dug into his lamb, savoring the way the sweet, tender meat broke apart in his mouth. He was unable to help himself from letting out a small groan of delight. Albi nearly choked on her food as she giggled again.

“Do they starve you at the Academy, my son?” Hesta smiled from across the table. “You sound as though you have not eaten since we saw you last.”

Ebon shook his head. “The Academy takes excellent care of us, Mother. Only, they must serve so many, you understand, and their cooks cannot hope to match the skill of ours.”

“And do you find yourself missing all the trappings of home? Your family has never kept you wanting for luxury, dearest nephew.” To Ebon the words sounded almost like an accusation, but Halab smiled to soften them.

“I have grown used to life within the Academy. It is only now that I realize how different things are from the way they were in Idris.”

“And your studies?” said Hesta. “Are they going well?”

Ebon smiled, trying to make it look modest. “Well enough. I wish I were moving faster. But I did complete my first class in only two months when it should have taken a year.”

Halab’s eyebrows raised. “That is most impressive. I knew when I sent you there that my faith in your wits would not be misplaced.”

“My
instructors also say often how quick a student I am,” said Albi, beaming. “Since you left, Ebon, I have been learning all sorts of new things, from accounting to history to everything in between.”

“I have noted you show particular interest and skill in the courts of the nine lands,” said Halab with a gentle smile. “That subject is complex and intricate, and ever-shifting, yet it is one of the most valuable things any merchant could know.”

Ebon frowned slightly. His father had never permitted him to learn much about the other kingdoms. It seemed he was fearful that Ebon might seek a better life, perhaps someplace where he might be permitted to learn his magic.

Now Halab cast her bright smile to Albi, before turning to place her hand upon Hesta’s. “Bright minds run in the family, it would seem. I can only imagine your pride.”

“What mother could wish for more than to see her children succeed?” said Hesta.

It felt as though the wind had fled from Ebon’s sails, though he knew that was foolish. He had thought Halab and his mother would wish to speak of him, not Albi. After all, they saw her far more often.

He took another sip of wine, trying to dispel such thoughts, and replaced the goblet on the low table. That reminded him of the table that had once been there, and that reminded him of the night he and his friends went to the eastern docks, where they saw the manor’s servants stealing away on a ship like thieves, taking the furniture with them.

Carefully he drummed his fingers on the wood, trying to appear nonchalant. “I notice many things in the manor have been replaced. The furniture, the tapestries and rugs. Even these dishes look new. Were things lost in the attack upon the Seat?”

Halab’s happy smile dampened, and she glanced at Hesta for a moment before sliding her eyes quickly away. Hesta looked down into her lap, suddenly fidgeting with her napkin. But Matami had fixed him with a withering glare, so furious that his brows nearly joined to one above his eyes.

“I only learned of this after the assault,” said Halab. “But Shay decided to redecorate. He had everything removed from the manor and brought back to our estates in Idris, to be replaced with new things. He said he wished to rid the manor of its western trappings, and make a home in the proud tradition of Idris again.”

Clearly Albi did not know the source of Halab’s sudden anxiety, but she caught the room’s mood. Her eyes roamed from one face to the next, but found no explanation. For his part, Ebon felt a tingling on the back of his neck; a heightened sense of awareness seemed to have come over him, bringing a roiling in his gut and a light-headedness that sharpened his thoughts.

“It is very fortunate,” he said carefully, “that my father did so just before the Seat was attacked. Imagine the damage if all our possessions had been here when Dulmun sacked the island.”

Halab’s worried frown deepened—and Ebon saw that she looked at Matami for a moment before averting her eyes.

“Most fortunate indeed,” said Halab.

Matami had not taken his eyes from Ebon’s for so much as a moment. “We should all be blessed with such fortune,” he growled. “It is a sign of some higher favor. Not like the Yerrins, whose home was demolished in the attack. Pompous fools.” He drank deep of his wine.

“We are fortunate,” Halab repeated. “Indeed, when I heard of the attack—after I learned that you had survived, Ebon, for of course that was my greatest worry—I grew concerned that this manor might have fallen. Only then did Shay mention what he had done.”

The table went quiet as she sipped gingerly at her wine. Ebon glanced across the room, to where Mako still leaned against the corner wall. The bodyguard fixed him with a hard stare, and there was a glint in his eye that did not come only from the fireplace. Ebon wondered if Mako was thinking the same thing as him.

Just then, there was a soft knock at the door. “Enter,” said Halab, and a courier strode in, wearing the white and gold of the High King. She dropped her missive into Halab’s hand and withdrew without a word. Halab glanced at the paper before looking up and giving them all a smile.

“We have been summoned to the palace,” she said. “They have offered us an audience faster than I thought.”

She stood, and the rest of them hastened to join her. Hesta and Matami went to Halab’s side. But before she left, Halab went first to Albi and then to Ebon, giving each child a long embrace.

“You will likely be gone before we return,” she told Ebon. “You must visit us again while we are still here. And if you have friends at the Academy, you must bring them, for we would all like to meet them.”

“Farewell, my son,” said Hesta. “It has gladdened my heart to see you again.”

“And you, Mother.” Ebon hugged her tight, inhaling the sweet perfume that he had not known he missed so badly. “I will see you again soon.”

They left. The moment the door shut behind them, Albi whirled to Ebon and seized his hands.

“Finally!” she said, laughing. “I thought they would
never
leave. Come now, Ebon. I want to hear everything—and I want to tell you everything I have been up to, as well. But first, you must put on some
proper
clothes.”

Ebon looked down at himself, feigning insult, though he could not hide his smile. “Proper clothes? What is wrong with my Academy robes?”

“Do not pretend to be simple,” she said, pushing his shoulders. “Go! Fetch yourself something more fitting to your station, and then let us walk in the garden. It is beautiful, more so with the snow, and not so smoky as it is inside.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Ebon bowed low, which earned him another slap on the arm, and then he left to find himself some new clothes.

thirteen

EBON CLIMBED TO THE SECOND floor and made for his room, but when he reached the door he paused. Its fresh-cut planks and shining varnish spoke of new carpentry. He looked across the hall. The opposite door was not so new, but it bore a small scorch mark near the stone floor.

So. The Drayden manor had been sacked. And Shay’s “fortunate” decision to empty the place of their possessions had likely saved the family much coin. The armies would have rushed through the rooms and found nothing to steal. Likely they had destroyed the door to Ebon’s room out of spite, or mayhap frustration.

Then he opened the door and found that it did not lead to his room at all. Instead he found a sitting room. There was a bookshelf at one end, some tapestries on the other walls, and a single armchair beside the fireplace.