‘Better,’ she said, as if she could read my thoughts, which was entirely possible. I doubted even silk magic was beyond the dowager magus. She handed me back the cards. ‘My husband had been declining for decades, and half the world knew he was in his final months. The Argosi’s timing was simply coincidence. She’s here for another reason.’
I flipped through the cards. If the Argosi always made sure their decks represented the true state of the world, then wouldn’t a new clan prince be important to them? I sorted through until I found the card titled ‘The Clan Prince’. It showed a man in a crown with a septagram behind him, the sigils of all seven forms of magic glowing. ‘Whether we have an old clan prince or a new one, it’s still the same card, still the same deck.’
I hadn’t intended to speak aloud, but Mer’esan smiled and reached out to put a hand on my cheek. The gesture was far more affectionate than I would have expected. ‘Better, son of Ke. Much better.’
It seemed the degree to which the dowager liked me was entirely dependent on whether the last thing I said was clever or not. ‘You said the Argosi only painted their other cards … the discordances … to represent people or events that could change the world. You believe that Ferius Parfax is here because something dangerous is coming. Something that could …’ How had she put it? ‘Something that could build or destroy a civilisation.’
Mer’esan nodded. ‘Try and sleep with that thought burrowing around your head.’ Her shoulders slumped and her eyes looked sunken in their sockets. ‘Finish now, Kellen of the House of Ke. This conversation is the longest I have suffered for more than twenty years. I grow tired.’
I was about to suggest that it could have gone a lot faster if she hadn’t kept testing me. Unless that was the point. She wanted to know if I was clever enough, but clever enough for what? I reached into my pocket and dug out the gold disc that the dowager magus had sent to me. ‘You want me to spy on Ferius Parfax.’
Mer’esan turned away from me, suddenly busy with arranging her glass and her book and her kettle. She’s ashamed, I thought. Ashamed of what she’s asking me to do. ‘The Argosi are full of secrets,’ she said. ‘This one seems to have taken an interest in you. You will do whatever is required to maintain that interest. You will do so without revealing my request to her or your father or to anyone else.’
So, spy on the woman who saved my life. ‘And in return you’ll ensure I stay in the mage’s trials,’ I said, the words already sounding like a betrayal. ‘But won’t the trials be suspended until the new clan prince is selected? Doesn’t the council have better things to do than decide who gets a mage’s name?’ Mer’esan turned back to me and gave me a hard look, but I was getting tired of being made to perform for her amusement. ‘No, just tell me this time.’
I think she might have blasted me with a spell then and there if she hadn’t been so exhausted. ‘The trials are more important now than ever. They are all that matters.’
‘But why?’
‘Because I never gave my husband an heir,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper and yet so full of … what? Sadness. Regret. Guilt. And something else. Determination. ‘What matters more than the strength of a mage, Kellen?’
I thought back to Ra’meth’s words the night before. ‘The strength of his family.’
Mer’esan nodded. ‘There is no mage left powerful enough to hold our people together solely on his own strength. Others could try to kill him and thus take the crown for themselves. So the next clan prince must have a powerful bloodline. A family too strong to challenge. A dynasty.’ She gave a wry shake of her head. ‘Besides, by using the trials to determine the strongest bloodline, those cowards on the council needn’t fear voting against the mage who might become their ruler. Their hands are kept clean.’
It wasn’t hard to imagine Ra’meth using his new position to punish those who’d failed to support him. He’d been ready to try to murder my father just to improve his chances. Hells, what if he keeps coming after us?
‘You needn’t fear Ra’meth, if that’s what’s creasing your brow. The council has made its decree – no vendettas until the new clan prince has been given the crown.’
‘What happens then?’ I asked, my rising voice betraying my fear. ‘What happens to my family if Shalla and I don’t … if my father isn’t selected?’
‘Exile,’ she replied. ‘Not by the new prince of course – that would be a terrible way to start a reign. No, if Ra’meth becomes prince, the council will banish the House of Ke.’
Exile. A Jan’Tep family wandering the world with no allies, no clan and no access to the oasis. Over the years even my father’s magic would weaken. It was nothing less than a death sentence for all of us.
Mer’esan looked at me for a moment, an expression of sympathy on her face that made me feel even worse. ‘We are a people of magic,’ she said quietly. ‘We cannot afford a mages’ war between houses. Better one quick and brutal injustice than decades, perhaps even centuries, of blood feuds fought with spells and murder and mayhem.’ She reached out and closed my hand over the tiny gold disc. ‘I suggest you find your magic quickly, son of Ke.’
10
The Spy
It was late into the night by the time I left Mer’esan’s little cottage. I still had Ferius’s deck in my pocket, along with the gold disc. I felt weighed down by these tools that were being used to manipulate me. I thought back to all the jokes Ferius had made about Jan’Tep magic. She made my desire for it sound petty and childish. Except that the dowager magus tells me it’s the only thing that will keep my family safe.
I didn’t know who to believe. I knew exactly what my family would think. A Jan’Tep must be strong, my father would tell me. My mother would just look at me, and make that little gesture of hers, drawing a finger around my left eye, assuring me that life was unfolding as it must. Shalla would do what she always did: tell me it was all my fault and I just needed to try harder. For once I just wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t going to judge me or make fun of me.
Nephenia.
Shalla had told me she’d come looking for me. I wondered what she’d looked like, knocking at our door, asking after me. Had her eyes been full of concern and maybe, just maybe, something more? Had she cried when my parents had refused to let her see me?
It was a childish fantasy of course, as was my sudden desire to try to find her. It was late, and for all I knew the dowager magus might have one of her guards following me to see where I went. Besides, I was fairly sure that in the morning Shalla would put on a big show in front of my father, asking whether I’d returned the deck of cards to the ‘Daroman woman’, which was the only justification for not returning the instant my meeting with the dowager had ended. So finding Ferius had to come before any hopes of romance with Nephenia.